The Rickard Job
by danae.14
Summary: Eames looses himself in a forge. Now both he and Arthur are left to try to help him remember who he is and why he lost himself in the first place, with both enemies from his past and his present coming after them. Rated for M/M and graphic scenes of torture Arthur/Eames Formally titled Breathing Lost Memories-
1. Chapter 1 Lost

Disclaimer: I don't own Inception nor any of it's characters.

Warnings: Graphic and Non-graphic scenes of torture. Non-graphic sex later in the story. Slash, Eames/Arthur

Rating: T for now, maybe M later, I'll keep you updated.

Notes: So i've been working on this story for the past three weeks and am almost finished but i wanted to get some feedback from reveiwers before i went ahead and completed it. I'm also halfway through a sequel/prequel so let me know what you think and i'll try to incorporate some ideas into the following chapters. This is post-inception. I also took some licenses with the ages. Both Arthur and Eames are the same age. This is an origins story but also a story by it's own right. Well enjoy.

Summary: Eames looses himself in a forge and both he and Arthur are left to try to help him remember who he is and why he lost himself in the first place.

Chapter One

Lost in the Forge

He couldn't breathe. His hands shook uncontrollably and his whole body was numb. _So numb, can't feel a thing. _He needed to feel, something anything, he turned the nozzle of the shower and stumbled in, clothes and all. He gasped and grabbed at his head, his first feeling his wet hair and the light pattering of falling water on his hands. Sliding down the wall, he dropped down onto his bottom and pulled his fingers down his face and back up into his greying hair, trying to feel something else, to feel his own skin. To get the memory of someone else's sagging skin off of his bones. To feel his own muscles ache and sinews stretch, not the old bones of another man, he leaned back against the wall of the shower and pulled his legs up tight against his chest. Shuddering breaths escaped his diseased lungs and broken ribs, panic was cloying at his insides. Still numb, still not breathing lungs that were his own, he tries to remember his name. His panicked frantic thoughts trying to grasp reality.

Someone is banging on the door and the noise echoes in his ears for a while before he comprehends what it is. Someone shouting a name, _his name!_ He couldn't quite figure out what it was yet, couldn't hear it over the panting of his own breath and the beating of his old heart. _No, not old, he was young._ He was not old. He didn't have diseased stricken lungs and sagging skin, no aching bones or did he_?_

He pushed his palms into his eyes and choked out another struggling breath. A moan escaped his lips and a loud bang shocked a jump from him, but he didn't open his eyes, didn't pull his palms away. He was blind after all. No point opening your eyes when all you'd see was darkness from his white dead eyes. Someone had kicked open the door and he waited for rough hands to pull him out of the shower. He cowers in to the tub, visibly shaking and he hears himself whimper. Nothing happens for a moment then the name is called again, softly this time, hesitant but his mind doesn't latch onto it. The voice is not the one he expected, not the deep rasp that brought pain and death. The name is said again from the soft unfamiliar _(or is it familiar?)_ voice, he tries to grasp it, but it slips through his spotted, twisted hands. He expects blows, for strikes to rain down on his huddled frail old bones from strong arms and big hands that know where to hit to make it look like an accidental fall. His old skin bruising in indistinct patterns of abuse. No, not old, he tried to remind himself. He tried to remember his own muscles, his strength.

He tries to call out when no one grabs for him, when the violence he expected doesn't happen but nothing comes out but a needy frightened croak of a moan. A pitiful painful gasp follows but still nothing happens. A few frantic heart beats later soft footfalls slowly approached and stopped just beside the tub he had taken shelter in. He could hear the steady rhythm of breathing from a few feet away and slowly the man lowers into a crouch beside him. The breathing got closer as someone gently leaned towards him and put a hand on his shoulder. He flinched away, a heart-rending sob making an appearance from his ravaged esophagus. His sopping clothes pull on his weary body. He knew he was wearing a suit and wishes his hands would stop shaking long enough for him to loosen his restricting tie. He needs to breathe.

The name is said again, his real (?) name but it still doesn't click. "You don't need to be afraid of me," the soft strong voice commands and he listens to the confident tone in the voice. This voice holds authority and familiarity and he isn't afraid of it. The hand falls on his clothed shoulder again, this time his weak body only slightly flinches. Soothing words are rushing from the other's mouth and flowing through his mostly deaf ears_. No_, he thinks to himself, _he isn't deaf_, he can hear and so he listens to the soft coos but doesn't understand them. The hand is gently, slowly following his shoulder to the middle of his back, pushing him forward gently. He allows the man beside him to push him forward and he relaxes his hands, allowing the palms to rest rather than press into his eyes and fingers grasping his hair loosen their death grip. His breath still hitches and sobs, and he realizes that he is crying from fright and pain. He feels shame and pity for the creature he is and tries to calm down his racing heart but he still doesn't understand what is going on. Why does he have old bones, sagging skin and slowly filling lungs? Why shouldn't he have old bones, sagging skin and slowly filling lungs? He doesn't recognize his body, _why?_ The hand is on the small of his back, still pushing and he scoots forward a bit, following the prompt of the hand.

"It's me, its Arthur," the voice coos and the name jolts into his consciousness but his mind is still grasping and his confusion takes over again. Arthur, the name comes with images, memories he doesn't remember. A full moon, soft hands around his waist, chaste lips pressing against his own, and lips that smile against the firm skin his bare chest, the taste of chai tea and the smell of aftershave. He hears the happy barking of two dogs and the purring cuddling body in his lap and the distinct laughter of Arthur. Most impressionably he sees, and feels a heated kiss in the rain, the hard press of a body against his, mind numbing pleasure and soft gentle touches. The shower (_or is it rain_) is tepid against the skin of his body. His real name is said again bringing him back to the water and blind eyes _(no not blind_) but he still doesn't know the name, doesn't acknowledge it.

"Rickard?" Arthur asks a different name softly and the panicked man knows that this should be his name. It is his name, old man Rickard. Dying of lung cancer, that's why it's so hard to breathe. He has three grandchildren who love him and two children who try not to ignore him. He gives out sweeties to all of the visiting children at the retirement home he has been living at the last six years. He has a nervous habit of pulling on his hair when he's worried or frightened. _Why would he be frightened?_ He has a warm booming laugh and a quick smile and quicker wit, or at least he used to, before the home. He doesn't like it there but he doesn't remember why. Rickard. It's his name. IT IS his name… _isn't it?_ The man beside him lowly says the other name again, asking. Arthur is trying to figure out who the panicked dying (_not dying_) man is too. "Do you know which one you are?" Arthur asks gently saying both names, Rickard and the other name. Something in him jolts at the other name and he knows Rickard isn't his name. _It isn't his name. It should be his name, why isn't it his name!_

The name rings with such familiarity and utter foreignness at the same time. The dual emotions confuse the bloody hell out of him and his panic goes straight back into full fledged. He pulls away, into the side of the tub, hands out in defense, eyes squeezed shut, trying to fend off the emotions.

"No…. no, who am I?" his voice croaks into his ears and he doesn't recognize it, panicking him more.

"Who am I?" he wails this time. Water runs down his face, entering his open, gasping mouth and he feels like he's going to drown. His heart races and his blood pressure peeks as he starts to cough fitfully. He grabs at his head again, burrowing his hands into his (_grey_?) hair. His weak heart can't take this much strain and he feels it's going to burst making his gasp louder and making him choke more.

Sensing the sudden overwhelming panic for the danger it was, Arthur moves fast. He turns off the water, pushes himself in behind the other man's back and clasps his legs on either side of the panicking man's torso, knees just in front of his armpits, feet next to his bottom. He pulls the panicking man into his chest, hands on his hands crossed on his chest, fingers twined, holding him tightly. He struggles vainly for a few seconds but Arthur shushes him gently, his hot breathe tickling his ear. He inches away from the other man's chest and he feels Arthur's forehead move to be against the back of his head. Arthur's soft words coming out against his neck.

"Shh, it's okay, breathe. Like me okay," Arthur takes a deep noisy breathe and the old man _(no, not old)_ hears it in his ear and feel the steady exhale against the back of his neck. He stops choking and notices the water is off. Arthur breathes again and coaxes him to follows his example. Arthur nozzles the back of his head with his forehead and continues to breath with him for a few minutes. He starts to loose his panic and he slows his heartbeat. He shudders as he feels the lips at the back of his neck lightly brush against his skin and then he stills completely. "Eames?" the name is whispered against the back of his neck and he feels the soft lips that uttered it against his taught skin. Slight tingling electricity goes off across his skin at the name. The name, he finally hears the name! Synapses fire and it hits his mind like a gong and a connection is made. _That is his names! He knows his name, but who is he? Old or young? _The lips press again, this time against the notch that is the highest point in his spinal cord. "Eames, calm down, breathe with me, please," Arthur begs him softly against his skin. _Eames_, he names himself for certain. He is Eames. The brit with the flashy Cheshire smile and flirtatious grey eyes and he loves Arthur. Arthur, the man at his back, his Arthur, kisses the next notch on his spine and Eames melts into his chest. He stops trying to pull away and shakily continues to emulate the breathing behind him. Two sets of memories flash in his mind at once, one filled with fear and pain and the other filled with Arthur and soft lips on his skin.

"Eames," he says to himself quietly. Convincing himself of his identity and grasping his memories. He was still so confused, sifting through the memories.

"Eames," he says again, below his breath and Arthur echoes the name into his skin.

His breath started to stop hitching but why was he, no, the old man, Rickard, why was Rickard so scared? Why was he in so much pain? A flash and a memory of big hands hitting him and of broken ribs. A chiclet tooth smile that mocks and harms with a raspy hard voice.

"Oh my god," Eames remembers his_, no_, Rickard's pain, his fear and he tastes the blood in Rickard's mouth and the bile in his own. "Oh fuck," going back and forth between Eames in the present and Rickard in the past, Eames relives the abuse the old man had experienced at the hands of one of his caretakers at the home.

"He was suppose to care for me," Eames gasps out feeling the betrayal behind those words. He remembers his, no Rickard's last sight, the chiclet tooth smile before he was blinded with something, a liquid he doesn't know but it hurts. It hurts so bad he screams and arches his back. Arthur in the present holds him tighter as Eames continues to remember and re-experience the old man's dying hours.

"He killed me, that bastard killed me," Eames gasps out.

Arthur shushed him and told him he knew. "I'm so sorry Eames. It wasn't supposed to go that far," Arthur's voice hitches and Eames realizes Arthur is softly crying at his back. Arthur's nose nuzzles against the side of his cheek and jaw and Eames continues to loosen the strength of the memories from their hold on him.

"You were in a dream, you remember that?" Arthur asks.

"A dream?"

"Yes, you're a forger. We were looking into the death of an older gentleman."

"Rickard." Eames says with confidence. He remembers meeting with the old man's son. The look of shock and revulsion on his face when he said the police were unable to bring his father's violent murderer to justice.

"You have to tell me if he did it. I have to know," the son had said with a thick voice. Arthur and Eames were the only two on the team. They had promised to do the job and get back to him as soon as possible.

"What went wrong?" Eames asked quietly. His sobs had stopped but tears still streamed from the corner of his eyes. They still burned with remembered pain. In fact, his whole body screamed with pain that wasn't there in reality.

"Geoff Walcott, the man whose mind we entered, turns out his mind was more conscious than we hoped it would be. His projections wouldn't let me into the retirement home like they were suppose to. I had to fight my way in. By the time I got to you, he had already duplicated his original murder."

"So he did do it?" Eames asked. "He killed me?"

"He killed Rickard, yes," Arthur's forehead was pressed against Eames' temple now. His warm breath tickling his cheek. "I'm so sorry Eames. If only I had gotten there sooner."

"No, it's okay Arthur. I shouldn't have lost myself like that. Why did I loose myself so completely in that forgery?" Eames questioned mostly himself with the words. He thought back, his eyes still tightly squeezed shut, trying to remember the beginning of the dream.


	2. Chapter 2 Back to the Beginning

Disclaimer: I don't own Inception nor any of it's characters.

Warnings: Graphic and Non-graphic scenes of torture. Non-graphic allusions to sex later in the story. Slash, Eames/Arthur

Rating: T for now, maybe M occasionally, I'll keep you updated.

Summary: Eames looses himself in a forge and both he and Arthur are left to try to help him remember who he is and why he lost himself in the first place.

Shout out to Reviewers: Kiraling, Eshlyn Kar and Wolfenmoon, thanks so much for the reviews.

Notes: Wow, this story has taken over my life. It is allot longer and far more involved that I had originally planned. Reviews encouraged and welcomed. If you have any questions, or if you are confused at all gimme a message on my profile or review. I will now be able to update this thing much more regularly now that it's completed. Thanks for your patience.

* * *

Back to the Beginning

(Two months earlier)

"Danny! Your cat has gotten hair all over my suit again," Arthur yelled over his shoulder to his lover on the couch. Eames peeked his head over the back of the couch looking over his right shoulder with a charming smile.

"He's your cat too darling. You can't just say he's mine every time he does something you don't like. You are the one who named him," Eames said and turned back to the television. The culprit of their discussion was curled possessively in Eames' lap. He stroked the cat's sleek black fur and the cat snuggled in closer.

"Who names a cat Dolos anyway? What did you expect when you named him after the Greek spirit of trickery and guile? He is merely living up to his name and punishing you for being such a nerd. He just missed you love, we have been gone for two weeks," Eames mumbled the first part to himself and to the cat but was soon addressing Arthur again. He continued to coo to the cat.

Arthur went to go pull out a new suit, "When are we going to go pick up the boys? Two weeks is a long time to be away. Can we leave them with someone they know next time?"

"Whom would we leave them with? Dom is on the other side of the country and doesn't have the time to look after them with Pippa and James. Everyone else is too much far away."

"I know, I just feel bad leaving them for so long. Maybe we should stop taking them with us and just leave them at the house with the housekeeper."

"We don't have a house keeper, or a house for that matter."

"We can get one," Eames grumped.

Eames and Arthur were talking about their two dogs. A Red Pharaoh hound dog named Twyrch** and a Louisiana Catahoula Leopard Dog with a blue-leopard coat named Llydd.** Llydd was still a puppy, only seven months. He was a mottled dark grey, light grey, strawberry brown and white pup with enough energy to keep even Eames on his toes, whereas Twyrch was a deep red, quiet dog with dark amber eyes. He was their first pet, nearly six years old. He was great with the puppy and both dogs loved Dolos. Surprisingly enough the three of them thrived together. Eames had named both dogs after characters in his favorite book series, a books series that Arthur had read to him aloud because Eames really didn't like reading.

"We'll get the boys after we meet with the client, alright babe?" Arthur yelled. He missed his dogs and wished they didn't have to leave them so often. He and Eames hadn't been able to live in one place in nearly three years. They had been living out of house in New Orleans for a couple years when they had gotten first Twyrch and then Dolos. That house was where they had wanted to settle down for good but fate had intervened and Mal had died. Killed herself. Arthur had left to help his brother Dom leave the country and then spent the next two years keeping his brother alive. That had been the hardest time of Arthur's life. It didn't look like Arthur and Eames' relationship was going to make it through that very difficult time.

Eames had stayed in their house in New Orleans till he couldn't stand being alone there anymore. He packed up Twyrch and Dolos and had left for Mombassa. His sister lived in Mombassa and he decided to stay with her for a while. After months of no communication, the inception job had come. He left both pets with Andre, his sister, and taken off to help Arthur get Dom home. Arthur had been ecstatic to work with Eames again after so long, though their relationship at that stage was strained and bitter.

After inception had been completed successfully and Dom was back with his kids and Arthur and Eames were able to settle their fight and move back in together. It'd been a year since inception and the two of them had planned on permanent residence. Planned but not executed, the two of them had decided that they were much too young and wealthy to stop working right this minute. So they kept working, which meant they were constantly on the move. The pets were going from neighbor's homes, to kennel's, to traveling with their owners but they never complained. The five of them were a happy family. They were currently staying in a flat in New York for this job. All three pets were able to make the trip with them.

"We're meeting the client at 2:00 Eames, you'd better be ready," Arthur yelled half hour later. When Eames didn't answer right away Arthur walked over to the living room. Eames was napping on the couch now, Dolos curled up on his stomach sleeping. When Arthur walked in, Dolos slowly opened his eyes and looked at him coyly. The cat reminded Arthur so much of Eames with the look that he smiled and pet the cat's ears. Eames, sensing someone near, cracked open his eyes and gave Arthur the exact look that Dolos had given him a few seconds before.

"You have to get ready now," Arthur smiled at him, pushed some hair off of Eames' forehead and smoothed it back, letting his fingers ghost to the back of his head. Eames smiled and leaned in to give Arthur a chaste kiss.

"Right away love," he picked up Dolos and placed him back on the warm couch and walked to the bedroom to get dressed. Arthur nuzzled the cat back into sleep, careful not to get any hair on his suit, while he waited for Eames.

* * *

The two of them arrived at 2:15 but Arthur wasn't worried about being late. He knew the meeting wasn't really till 2:30. After working with Eames for the past eight odd years and living with him for the last six he knew how to get Daniel Eames to a meeting on time. After ordering coffee the pair went outside to the patio and waited for the client to show. Soon a well-dressed man with wispy brown hair arrived at their table and shook their hands.

"Edward Rickard, nice to meet you Mr. Eames and Mr. Arthur," Edward was a balding man in his fifties with an expensive fitted blue suit and black wire frame glasses. An air of weariness clung to the man. Eames wasn't too firm with his handshake fearing the man's frail worn bones would break in his hand. He looked wasted and lean. Slightly sagging skin but an ill-fitting expensive suit told Eames that he had lost weight recently. His eyes were dark and slightly puffy underneath, telling a story of sleep loss. His hands shook slightly another sign of food and sleep deprivation. The man pulled out a cigarette from a package in his front pocket. No cigarette stains on his hands or teeth, so a chain smoker meaning recent stress causing the habit to be picked up. A man like this would have a fancy cigarette case if he had a life long habit and the fact that he just had the original box affirmed the chain-smoking hypothesis. His knee bounced restlessly, the man was nervous or angry, too much adrenaline in his system making him squirm and fidget.

"Just Eames and Arthur works for us. Nothing as formal as Mr.," Eames says sitting back down at the table with Arthur on his left and the businessman in front of them.

"Can we order you anything Mr. Rickard? A coffee perhaps?" Arthur asked.

"Um, Edward please. Rickard is… was my father's name. No on the coffee, thank you. I'd like to get to the point as soon as possible gentlemen," Edward says with an awkward flourish of his hand.

"Of course sir. How can we help you?" Arthur asks politely and Eames sees appreciation in his eyes and in the way he leans slightly towards the other man. Arthur loves getting to the point. Small talk and formalities grated on his nerves, though you'd never know with his nearly perfected mask of neutrality. Eames knew Arthur's tells in and out. The way his mouth would twitch at the side when he was amused, or how his eyes would gleam when he was excited. He would swipe at his bottom lip with his thumb and he would bite at it nervously when he was worried or horny.

"My father died nearly eight months ago in a retirement home outside the city. Well not so much died as was brutally murdered," Edward said awkwardly with less than concealed grief.

"I'm very sorry for your loss," Eames said softly, a little taken aback by the bluntness of the statement. Edward nodded his thanks and continued, looking impatient and uncomfortable. He didn't like being open like this but he needed them.

"The murderer was never caught but I think that it was one of the workers at the home, a man named Geoff Walcott."

"Why do you suspect Walcott?" Arthur asked.

"My father had broken his hip three weeks before the murder and I suspected abuse but my father was adamant that it was an accident. My father always flinched when Walcott was around after that. I was going to make a formal complaint but then…" The man let the sentence hang and he cleared his throat audibly. "It was a brutal murder but expertly done. There wasn't a scrap of physical evidence that would conclusively lead the police to Walcott but when I was there cleaning out my father's things I caught sight of the man. The way he looked at me, his eyes, I can't describe it really. He seemed proud," Edward cut off abruptly and looked away for a minute. "You have to tell me if he did it. I have to know," the son had said with a thick voice looking back at Eames and Arthur. "I also need to know why."

* * *

Twyrch** means boar in Celt and is pronounced Turk.

Llydd** comes from the Celtic Lyd ap Dicter that means rage, son of fury.


	3. Chapter 3 Investigation and Planning

Disclaimer: I don't own Inception nor any of it's characters.

Warnings: Graphic and Non-graphic scenes of torture. Non-graphic sex later in the story. Slash, Eames/Arthur

Rating: T for now, maybe M later, I'll keep you updated.

Summary: Eames looses himself in a forge and both he and Arthur are left to try to help him remember who he is and why he lost himself in the first place.

Chapter Three

Investigation and Planning

"Brutal murder was an understatement. This has the makings of a professional mob hit," Eames said wincing at the crime scene photos in front of him laid out on the coffee table. It was two weeks after being hired by their client and the two were dutifully working away. They had spent the last two weeks setting up, getting the initial information about the murder and preliminary investigations into the background of Rickard and his family. Eames leaned back into the couch and read more from the police report. The victim, an 84-year-old man named Mark Rickard, was murdered in his retirement home around the hours of 1 am to 2 am. He was suffocated with a hand; someone covered his mouth and nose while they kneeled on his chest but not before he was severely beaten, tortured and blinded with acid. The police had no suspects, no witnesses, no leads what so ever.

"So how are we gonna catch this guy? A two way extraction?" Eames asks Arthur who is studying at the desk.

"You forge someone trying to get Walcott to admit the deed and meanwhile I'll be searching for a safe to read his subconscious thoughts that your questions bring up. Pretty standard," Arthur agreed. He had his laptop open in front of him looking up the mark and emailing some of his contacts, looking for deeper, dirtier details.

"Do you think we should give Ariadne a call?" Arthur asked scanning some recent mazes he'd printed up.

"Naw, we can do it. We don't need a masterpiece. We should give her a call soon though. She wanted to have us over for supper to celebrate her graduation," Eames said smiling at the thought of their architect friend. Ari was the person he texted the most next to Arthur and was quite protective of her. She had talent and the most adorable personality.

The two of them continued to research for the next little while in silence before Arthur sighed and turned towards Eames.

"What do you think of our client?" Arthur asks him.

Eames looked up from the papers again and pondered silently before answering. Eames was the Sherlock Holmes of dreaming. "It's the power of deduction my dear Watson!" _Yes Eames had actually said that, often_, Arthur though ruefully to himself with an eye roll. Eames always caught the little details that made someone unique and he always got the implications of those details. He was a master of understanding behavior and psychology, that's why he was so good at emulating people. Other forgers just did what other people were doing; all surface stuff but it rarely tricked the projections for long. Eames did the little things, the ticks and tells, but he knew why the person was doing them so he was able to forge a lot more than just the actions and appearance but also the personality, the way the person thought and his/her reasons for doing, feeling or thinking something. Eames was more likely to become celibate than to get detected by either a mark or by the projections. He could spend weeks walking around in someone's subconscious. He had tricked identical twins into believing he was the other, he had forged soul mate's and the other was never the wiser, he could trick a mother into thinking he was her own child. Arthur was so proud of how good Eames was but it also scared him. Eames wasn't the best because he just looked like someone in a dream, but because he became them. Arthur had seen Eames loose himself a couple of times and feared the day he wouldn't be able to find Eames and separate him from his dream personalities.

They had met with Edward Rickard, their client, three other times since the initial meet but Eames had had him pegged after only the first meeting. Arthur thought he was rather eccentric for a businessman.

"He's not crazy, just tired and stressed. He recently picked up smoking; he isn't sleeping, and has lost a lot of weight. He is struggling with his father's death and he feels guilty about it. I don't think he did it but that he feels like he should have reported the suspected abuse earlier or that he was responsible for the torture in some way. I think we should trust his instincts about this Walcott guy. How did he get our number by the way?"

"He used to work for my parents. He was one of the few who were legitimate. I guess my parent's have been bragging to their rich friends about their criminal genius son and his significant other."

"Yeah you are something to brag about aren't you?" Eames smiled reassuringly at Arthur knowing how hard it was for Arthur to talk about his family.

After finishing reading the police reports Eames mused aloud to Arthur.

"Judging from these injuries and the acid burns in particular I'd say the murderer is former military or professional criminal. These injuries are all efficient and painful, something that takes practice to inflict correctly. Many of the injuries are classic torture methods for getting information. Pulled fingernails, slices and burns, the usual stuff. They are all methodical and precise. The acid is more underground mob stuff though. He appears to have let Rickard out of his bonds before blinding him with the acid and killing him. It looks like the killer wanted Rickard to think he was getting away before taking that away from him. Real brutal stuff. We're dealing with a sicko here. Does Walcott have a background in organized crime or the military?"

"I don't know. This guy looks squeaky clean at first glance. He's 37, from La Pine, Oregon. He's been working in nursing and retirement homes since he graduated and all of his references seem to check out. He's still in the state, working for a different home now though. I think this might be a fake identity but it's a good one. I'm having a hard time tracking this guy."

"My Arthur having a hard time tracking someone?" Eames said with fake incredulity, he turned serious and continued. "Why do you suspect this guy isn't who he says he is? Have any of your contacts with the crime syndicate come back with anything yet?"

"Nothing concrete. If he did kill Rickard he had to have had practice somewhere. The injuries aren't hesitant or shaky. These are stone cold cuts and bruises, which only come with lots of practice and training."

"Maybe we shouldn't rule out mob ties then. There are few people who can forge the documents needed to pull off a good false identity."

"Yourself being counted in that number of course," Arthur teased and Eames smiled at him knowingly. Eames got up from the couch and walked over to Arthur.

"Do you want to call your family or their contacts? See if they know anything?" Eames asked gently. Arthur shook his head firmly.

"No, I'll find something I'm sure."

" Alright monkey. I'm gonna go to make dinner. I'll holler when it's ready," Eames said placing a hand on Arthur's cheek. He ran his thumb down his cheekbone lightly before kissing Arthur on the top of the head and walking to the kitchen. Eames stooped and picked up Dolos from the ground, as the cat came over and rubbed himself against his leg. "Wanna check on the boys before you come on in for dinner? Me and Dolos will be in the kitchen."

"For being English, your speech is horrific sometimes," Arthur called after him. After two minutes more of working, Arthur felt something brush his legs and heard a small meow. Arthur smiled, leaned down and plucked the lithe cat from the ground and placed him down on his legs. "Arthur did you steal my cat?" Eames called from the kitchen.

"Our cat, Eames. No I didn't. He came to me, he must not like whatever it is your cooking in there."

"Hardy har," Eames sarcastically laughed.

Dolos curled in Arthur's lap and slept while he continued with his online investigation. After ten minutes more of research Arthur put Dolos on his bed atop the couch and opened the patio door that lead to the garden veranda that he and Eames had got for their dogs. He whistled shrilly and the two dogs came bounding towards him through the shrubs and small trees. Twyrch got to him first and Arthur knelt to pet the dog. Twyrch was well behaved, he knew better than to jump or lick, he nuzzled affectionately but not aggressively. Llydd on the other hand immediately jumped onto Arthur's lap, his muddy paws making prints on his dress pants. He groaned and picked up the puppy and placed him on the ground beside Twyrch. He spent the reminder of the time before dinner playing fetch with Twyrch while Llydd ran behind him, often tripping up the other dog when he would get too enthusiastic.

Eames called Arthur into dinner a little while later. He usually cooked while Arthur always baked. Baking took too much precision and not enough imagination for Eames to enjoy. He never followed a cookbook and it was damn near impossible to replicate any of his dishes but Arthur had never tasted such good food in all his life than in his years with Eames as his cook.

Eames smiled at him when he saw the puppy prints but frowned when he caught sight of Llydd in his arms and Twyrch at his heels.

"Gorgeous, we got an apartment with a garden for a reason. The dogs are suppose to stay in it," Eames chastised his lover but came over with a wash cloth to wipe the pup's paw's clean.

"They miss us though, come on Eames let him stay through the meal, and then we can go for a walk with them. Please?" Arthur asked with great big puppy dog eyes. Eames chuckled and rolled his eyes before agreeing and bringing out the food. Eames had been the one to buy Twyrch 6 years ago. Arthur had always wanted a dog when he was growing up but had not been allowed. Dolos was Arthur's gift to Eames and Llydd had been for Twyrch who was home by himself allot, or at least that's what Arthur told Eames when he had brought the puppy home. Eames' suspected it was also an apology for the last two years and a way to mark the restart of their relationship.

The two ate silently for a while. Halfway through the meal Eames brought up the job again.

"Why would anyone go through so much effort on this guy? You wouldn't hire a hit man and a good one at that to torture someone to death unless you needed something from him."

"Or maybe you needed something from his son. Send a message through the death of the father. Show him what you can do, blackmail him. Thus the months of abuse in the home before the murder."

"It also explains the state that the son is in. The extreme stress and guilt," Eames chewed his food thoughtfully before continuing. "It doesn't explain why Edward would hire us though. If he knew who had killed his father, i.e. the blackmailer and why, the blackmail, he wouldn't need us. What about the other son? Could it have been directed at Edward's brother Herman?"

"I'll put some research into it later. Thanks for the meal Dan, it was great as usual," Arthur said spooning some of the meat off the table and in front of Llydd. The puppy ate it up greedily and licked his fingers when Arthur bent to pet him. Twyrch was curled in the corner with Dolos and watched with mild disdain. Twyrch hated people food.

"Arthur you are going to spoil that dog rotten," Eames chided as he grabbed Arthur's plate to bring it to the kitchen. Arthur smiled and hummed to the pup as he picked him up and stroked his smooth fur. He handed him to Eames when he came back into the room and started cleaning up for him. Eames went into the living room and snuggled with Llydd and waited for Arthur. Eames relished in the affectionate atmosphere he and his man had cultivated together.

It had taken a long time for Arthur let down his guard and let Eames in. In the beginning of their friendship, Eames had been a veritable mess. Dependent on his friends and family to the point of pathetic, he had been damaged goods. He had also been loyal to a fault and didn't let new people anywhere near him unless they had earned his trust and his trust was hard won. Arthur and he had had a shaky start to say the least. That was different now though. With other people, you'd barely guess they were a couple but alone Arthur allowed himself to feel and to show that feeling. That also meant Eames got an earful when Arthur was pissed off at him, but you can't get the good without the bad. He felt blessed that Arthur could ever love him, let alone let him into his home and into his confidence. Both men were fiercely loyal and for a while that was what their relationship had been based on. A strong friendship, a need to have someone in their lives that they could trust to be honest and to always have their backs.

Of course there was the mind-blowing sex that had defined their relationship for the first few years as well. They had been as bad as teenagers for a while, sneaking away into closets and stairways for a quick jerk-off in the middle of a job. Their relationship had eventually shifted from sexual satisfaction to something more intimate but neither of them could quite remember when. When they had moved in together, officially together, it had surprised both of them how okay they were with it. Both of them had expected to freak out about the commitment and responsibilities but it was strangely easy for the two of them. They just worked together.


	4. Chapter 4 The Past

Disclaimer: I don't own Inception nor any of it's characters.

Warnings: Graphic and Non-graphic scenes of torture. Non-graphic allusions to sex. Slash, Eames/Arthur

Rating: M for this chapter for sexual content.

Summary: Eames looses himself in a forge and both he and Arthur are left to try to help him remember who he is and why he lost himself in the first place.

Shout out to Reviewers: Alice, thanks so much for both of your reviews.

Notes: Officially finished writing this, so i'll keep updating bi-weekly till i get to the end. But for those of you who want it ealier, every review this chapter receives i'll update a day earlier. So review!

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Chapter Four

The Past

The four of them went to the dog park after Arthur finished with the dishes. Eames and Twyrch wrestled in the grass for a while, while Arthur followed Llydd who was investigating a frog that was hopping beside the pond. He enjoyed his life with Eames more than he could put into words.

Arthur had grown up in a home with little laughter and less measurable love. Jack Arthur Remington was the youngest of five children. Two older brothers who were counted on to take over the lucrative family business and two older sisters who were married off as politically as the royals. The quiet young Arthur hadn't been planned nor wanted. He was much younger than the rest of his siblings and much more imaginative. He was constantly reading and researching; soaking up as much as his young mind could manage. To his family's eternal annoyance he questioned nearly everything. Though his father wanted him to study business, his mind always followed the fanciful more than the practical. His father had ruthlessly taught the young boy to despise his imaginative nature and to follow strict rules of conduct. His mother, borderline OCD, had taught him the way of cleanliness and to despise anything out of order. All emotion but the barest was squashed and put under a mask of solemnity. Emotion and creativity were weapons others would use against you, so it was hid. Composure and image were everything; bad image or loosing control was a sign of weakness that other's would exploit. Most of all he was taught never to disgrace the family name.

His families' wealth and influence was heavily based in the local crime syndicates. They were one of the most powerful crime families in America. They dealt in illegal guns, diamonds and just about anything they could get their fingers into. They ran the mob in about four cities and had made many enemies along the way. Arthur was raised with a gun in his hands and taught how to protect himself and his family from a very young age. He had grown up with mixed martial arts and many weapons courses apart of his everyday life. He had watched his father execute one of his business rivals when he was seven years old. He had killed for his first time when he was fourteen.

His older siblings had followed in their parent's footsteps as they had been taught, all except their third oldest, Dominic. Dominic Reid Remington, his older brother, now known as his assumed name Dominic Cobb, was the sibling that had paid the most attention to his younger brother. Dom was eight years older than Arthur. Dom had rebelled against his parent's strict teachings and loved on the younger brother. He helped him with painting and drawing, something his parent's had seen as a waste of time. He had brought Arthur to the zoo and to the museum. He encouraged him to smile and laugh and to cry with him. He taught him it was okay to let people in if they had gained your trust. He taught him right from wrong and even took him to church to teach him respect for a moral code his family had never followed. It was all thanks to Dom that young Arthur had had any semblance of love and normalcy in his life.

Then Dom had joined the army at 18. He had left and become a part of a new program in the making: dream technology. The guys who had first experimented with it taught him and he had been the best among his peers. Arthur found out years later, that it had been Dom who had helped leak the device to the private sector, something he could probably get tried and convicted for treason for if ever found out. Being eight years younger than Dom, after he left Arthur had had to grow up under his parent's controlling thumb and older siblings general dislike largely by himself for 6 years.

He had graduated at 16 and gone to college soon as soon as possible, wanting to get away from the crime world his family was apart of. He became a hacker at his university and was the go to guy for test modulating. He soon started to branch out and into more criminal undertakings. Hacking became a skill he was very adept at and he gained a loyal bunch of informants in the underground world of his college and local criminal syndicate. He exploited the fact that his family was well known in the killing of narks* department to keep informants loyal. He used his family criminal ties at first but soon started making his own way in the world of illegal information gathering and selling. He tried to keep away from the more hardcore criminals, preferring to deal with them from a distance and refused to go out into the field. His father warned him about smearing the family name and Arthur made sure he kept himself and his family protected. By the time he graduated he had himself a tidy fortune from his activities. He had graduated from a prestigious school with a master of arts in humanities and a minor in neuroscience at the age of 21.

His parents had expected him to take Dom's spot in the family business, until he had come home from school with a young man instead of a woman. Having a gay son was not something his parents would abide and made him choose between his sexual choice or his family and inheritance. He left without a backward glance. Dom had sent him a letter telling him he had heard what had happened and that he was so proud of him. The other three had sided with their parents and Arthur had been cut off from the family money and the family itself.

He was a veritable genius with all that he had put his hand to. His hacking was second to none and his extensive informant base was only growing larger as his name got more widespread. This naturally got allot of people very interested in the young genius but none more than his older brother and his professor Miles Moreau.

After serving the military dream work for seven years, Dom had left the army and joined the academic world in France. There he met Miles and more importantly Marlorie. They had helped Dom through his schooling and into higher realms of understanding the mind and it's intricacies. Dom had quite the knack for architecture. He had told his professor about his young genius brother and both Miles and Dom were quite sure that the young man would make an excellent candidate for the technology of dream sharing. Arthur had naturally done lots of research on the military breakthrough and had written several papers on the theories behind it but he had never imagined what it would actually be like. His brother had flown him to Paris to be with him and his girlfriend Malorie Moreau, Mile's daughter, after his family had kicked him out. Arthur left his current lover, who thought he was an emotionless robot anyways and moved to Paris. The three of them lived together and studied the machine and explored the possibilities of the dream world together for two years, doing odd jobs every once in awhile. Arthur was a perfect point man, brutally efficient. With Cobb as the architect and Mal the extractor the three of them made an amazing team.

Malorie and Dom had doubled as his only family and friends for those two years, till on a job in England, young Arthur, who was now going by the pseudonym Remy or Remiel, met a criminal named Robert Daniel Renault, later known as Eames.

After an intense two and a half years of getting to know one another, starting out as colleagues to best friends to lovers, Eames easily became the most important person in Arthur's life apart from Dom and Mal. Though they were apart for weeks at a time and fought like banshees, from the first time they'd kissed Arthur and Eames never had any doubt about whom they wanted by their side for the rest of their lives.

In the years since Arthur had become a famous point man he had had some dealings with his family but it wasn't usually very friendly. They had even met Eames. That had been a fiasco to say the least.

Arthur looked over at his lover then and smiled widely. Eames was still wrestling with Twyrch and his t-shirt and jeans were filthy with dirt and grass. Arthur picked up Llydd and walked over to the pair. Llydd who had been making as if to jump into the pond, barked unhappily at Arthur for stopping him and nipped at his chest playfully. Arthur tsked him disapprovingly before he plunked Llydd on top of Eames' back. He laughed when Llydd started biting at his hair. Eames made an indignant yelp and reached back to pluck the pup from its' perch. Twyrch came over to Arthur and sat on his foot, which he did when he wanted Arthur's attention. Arthur leaned down and pet the red dog behind his ears.

"Your filthy," Arthur chastised Eames with a glare. Eames smiled and rolled onto his back and winked. Llydd sat on his chest nipping at his fingers.

"You wouldn't have me any other way would you darling?"

Back at their apartment Eames put the dogs into their beds for the night and joined Arthur in getting ready for bed. Arthur always slept in silk pajamas bottoms and an appropriately colored cotton top. Eames' slept in his boxer briefs. Arthur asked him what he would do if they had to go into trouble and had to run out of their apartment in the middle of the night. "I'd go just like this Smoochie. If nothing else my body is good for distraction in the middle of a crisis." Though Arthur argued that Eames was not appropriately dressed for the possibility of action during the night, he had had to agree that Eames' body was certainly a distraction, when it came to him anyway.

Right now that was certainly the case. Eames' lower half was under the cover and his arms were behind his head against the headboard. His torso was fully exposed; his bare muscles and tattoos making Arthur ache in all the right places. Arthur crawled onto the bed and snuggled up onto on Eames and under the covers. He kissed him on the chin while running his long fingers over his collarbone and lower on his chest. Eames wrapped his arms around Arthur and pulled him tight to him till the two of them were chest to chest. Arthur flipped his leg over both of Eames' and straddled him. He ground his hips into the man under him and Eames growled low in his throat and bucked up against him. "Don't call me Smoochie," Arthur nipped at his jaw.

"How about Pudding?" Eames laughed as he kissed Arthur's cheekbone.

"No."

"Pooh Bear?" Eames asked running his hands through Arthur's loose hair.

"God no!" He brought his mouth up to Eames' and nipped at his lower lip.

"Boo?" Arthur was about to comment but instead he moaned keeping a steady slow pace with his hips while Eames writhed beneath him. He slid one hand down Eames' chest and stomach before placing it on the edge of his waistband.

Eames put his hands on Arthur's hips and stilled his movements. He smiled against Arthur's mouth and pulled back from the kiss suddenly.

"Not in front of the kids Booboo," Eames said looking over at the two dogs that were curled up in the corner of the room with Dolos. Eames' didn't like getting frisky when the animals in the room, "It's just down right creepy. I was never one for voyeurism." Arthur looked over to the corner where little Llydd was innocently staring at them and it did make Arthur feel a tad bit uncomfortable.

"I did tell you to put them out into the garden for the night didn't I. Now either quit being weird about it or put them out now before I get started without you," Arthur groused bending down to peck a kiss at the base of Eames' throat and he snapped the elastic in Eames' waistband against his skin.

"Ow!" Eames laughed into Arthur's hair and shifted them so he could shoe the dogs out. They ran out when he tossed a ball out into the hall. Dolos was much more difficult to get rid of. Angry at being woken from his sleep he sprinted under the bed and Eames cursed at him while he lay on his stomach trying to reach the stubborn feline.

"Bloody hell, Dolos. Come on…(grunt) oh for the love of…(huff) come here!" Eames grunted and cursed until he finally laid hands on the cat. He chucked the cat out the door and slammed it shut after him. They both heard the soft meow of complaint from the other side of the door and Arthur chuckled. Eames turned from the door to Arthur with a wolfish grin, "Now Boo, who's dressed inappropriately for the nights activities?" and full out made a running leap onto the bed.

The next morning Eames was up first. When Arthur woke up Eames' side of the bed was empty, though still warm. He heard Eames talking quietly in the next room while he got ready for the day.

"Got the job," Eames said with a flourish as he came into the bathroom while Arthur was brushing his teeth.

"At the nursing home with Walcott?" Arthur asked through a mouth full of spit and toothpaste.

"Ew dove, spit before you talk. Yes at the home, I finished all of those forged documents for my new identity this morning. You are now looking at nurse Jonathon Taves. I even get to wear pink scrubs if I want," Eames said with a big smile and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"When do you start?" Arthur said through his toothbrush.

"Seriously Arthur, gross. I start this afternoon at two. They were short handed so it really wasn't that hard to get the job," Eames left the room and called back that breakfast was sitting on the hob.

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Eames put on his scrubs that Arthur had picked up for him when they had discussed him shadowing Walcott at his work. They were blue, unfortunately not pink. Though they did make his eyes and his ass pop. He told Arthur as much. Arthur smiled at him, smoothed out the crinkles in the top and placed a pair of big black rimmed glasses on his lover's face. They had decided on the glasses being enough of a disguise. Eames decided on taking on the persona of nerdy and awkward and the glasses fit the clumsy persona well. Eames was a forger in real life as well as in the dream. Though he couldn't change his face and body, he could change the way it moved. The difference was staggering when Eames put on a persona. You'd never connect the upright, smarmy brit with the shy clumsy man he was portraying today. Arthur told him to have a good day, then kissed him on his way out the door.

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Eames got to work directly at two and was shown around the place by the head nurse. He didn't see Walcott his first day but the next day he did.

He was helping a couple of the seniors to the lunch table when he caught sight of Walcott across the hall. He knew the man from the pictures that Arthur had been able to pull up. The man had sandy blonde hair and a firm jaw. The man was rather attractive. He was built like a true football player. (Eames thought the real title for the sport, not soccer as Arthur said) Big, broad chest and shoulders with long legs, the man looked fit and strong. He obviously took care of himself. He was well cut and tidy. He walked with a confident step that just screamed military. Even the way he held his head told Eames of how this man was used to being obeyed. He was an authoritative figure.

When Eames was passing him in the hall and their eyes met for the first time. Stormy grey-blue met sharp hazel. Eames felt a chill of horror flood through his blood. They held each other's gaze for only a few seconds before they passed each other but Eames felt as if he had just walked through an ice shower. The man had hawk eyes, quick, darting, perceptive and predatory. Eames felt a chill pass through him again as he felt Walcott's eyes on his back. He tried to pin down the reason for feeling of horror but couldn't.

* a nark is someone who tattles on criminal activity


	5. Chapter 5 The Past of Eames

Disclaimer: I don't own Inception nor any of it's characters.

Warnings: Graphic and Non-graphic scenes of torture. Non-graphic sex later in the story. Slash, Eames/Arthur

Rating: M (Allusions to sex)

Reviews: Thanks so much to Eshlyn Kar, Alice and Yesturday'sNightmare. (I'd love to be able to message you back so please login for your next review :D Until then sorry there is more past to get through but I think it's interesting and it's pertinent for this story and the sequel/prequel I have going up later. Don't worry the action/torture is coming soon.)

Note: So this is a day early because i'm heading out on a road trip tomorrow. Same deal as before, I'll update two weeks from today but with every review i'll update a day sooner. Next Chapter we'll be plunging into the job and into the dream world so exciting stuff coming up. If you login and review I'll send you a sneak peak into the sequel/prequel for this story which I'll post a couple months after this story is up. And if you catch what other Tom Hardy movie is alluded to in this ch. I'll give you a preview of another story I'm working on separate from this one. Thanks for reading and reviewing :D

Chapter Five

The Past of Eames

A week and a half later, back at the apartment Arthur was steadily pulling together who Walcott might actually be. Arthur had scowered their old jobs for a match and he was relieved nothing had come up with their past contacts. It was always more difficult to go against people they knew.

The search had pulled some facts that Arthur was busy trying to interpret and pull together. A possible partial fingerprint from a Belgium murder was a match for one Ector Scott, a pseudonym for a man involved in a murder in Japan. Both murders were a match for the same killing signature as Rickard, suffocated with a hand over the mouth and nose, pressure on the chest and acid blinded eyes just prior to death. Arthur had found dozens of victims with this signature globally. In Los Angles they even got a partial picture of the man they thought had killed a woman there. He went under the same pseudonym Ector Scott. You couldn't see anything more than his profile but Arthur was better than the normal investigator. He was able to get a clear shot from the picture of the man's ear and matched it to the surveillance photos of Walcott's they already had. So the man had been busy. Possibly killing over 56 people in over 14 countries in the past 6 years, never leaving any substantial evidence behind. But all the little bits were starting to add up. The photo from Los Angeles, the partial from Belgium, the false identity in Japan, and a few other insubstantial bits that if looked at individually, left you with a pile of circumstantial evidence but together they were painting a bloody picture.

Arthur went back to the paper trail after he had gotten through most of the circumstantial stuff. Everything had a paper trail: bank transfers, credit cards, even cash could be tracked if given the right experience and Arthur had it. Slowly but surely he was getting an idea of where the man had been but not who he was. Arthur had found over seven different identities that matched the man. Two of the identities were listed as dead, three missing and two still active members of the community. It was hard to shift through and find out which was actually the man he was looking for but he was slowly making headway.

Though he still had bupkis on why the murderer had gone after Rickard. Edward's brother Herman looked clean and his kids did too. The best Arthur could do was that Mark Rickard had been in the army for over fifty years. A retired vet. Maybe he had seen, done or knew something from his days in the service that could have warranted the torturous death.

Arthur ran his hands over his face. He was tired and frustrated with this case. He wanted to get it over with. Ever since the inception job they had been taking more jobs than ever before. All he wanted to do was take a very long vacation with Eames, somewhere with lots of museums and art galleries. They needed time together, to pull some semblance of normalcy back into their lives. They needed to heal and ground themselves. Arthur was afraid that they would loose themselves soon if they didn't regroup. He worried about Eames especially.

Arthur's first time lucid dreaming had been wonderful. Filled with smiles and beauty as he shared the new world with the only family that had mattered to him. Mal and Dom had taken him into their minds where they showed him vast oceans and flowery meadows. Beauty and friendship was the classroom that Arthur got to study in for the world of lucid dreaming. Arthur knew that Eames hadn't had the best first experience with dream technology. In fact it had been devastating. Eames had been known back then as Handsome Bob but his real name was Daniel Renault. He was apart of a rowdy gang of criminals in London called the Wild Bunch. As a young 22 year old, Eames had been subjected to one of the most brutal extractions Arthur had ever heard about. The five men that had infiltrated the young criminal's mind hadn't been subtle or talented enough to extract the information they sought through guile. They were a brutal team who didn't know the intricacies of extraction by finding the information hidden in the subconscious. They just used the opportunity to inflict serious pain on an individual without actually killing them. They had mercilessly put the young man under into the dream state and tried to torture the information out of him. They had doped Eames up on serious drugs, and continually plunged him into the dream world. They would torture him for hours before killing him and putting him right back under. Their brutal method may well have worked if only Eames had known anything that would have been of consequence to them, which he hadn't. The team had botched up their original target and they hoped Eames would be a good backup. He hadn't known what they needed to extract. They didn't believe that Eames knew nothing and had for three days subjected him to their torture.

Eames was in the hospital for weeks after being rescued, trying to get his body flushed of all the harmful drugs that were in his system. The best thing about the drugs was the fact that Eames hadn't remembered anything from his dreams when he was awake. Once he fell asleep though, his subconscious was thrown into turmoil. He had constantly awoken himself screaming but never remembered what had happened.

The first time Arthur and Eames had dreamed together, back when they were both 23, had been the first time Eames had lucid dreamt since the brutal extraction. His subconscious was a veritable Chernobyl. Buildings that should have been pristine and audacious in Arthur's design were crumbling ruins in Eames' dream. The projections had been absent for the first hour and so had Eames. When Arthur had finally found him, he had been cowering in the tub of a washroom beside a room that also appeared to be a torture chamber. The projections found Arthur then and tore him apart, slowly. It took months of help from Arthur and Mal to calm Eames' subconscious enough for him to be able to go into anyone else's dreams and not have his projections enter in and destroy everything in sight. It took years for Arthur to be able to safely enter into Eames' subconscious and years more for anyone else to enter in. Eames had since then become a stable dreamer as shown in the Inception job.

There had been a certain vulnerability to Eames that had enticed Arthur the first time they had met. Because of his upbringing, Arthur couldn't bring himself to ever show any kind of vulnerability, but Eames had had an open face, so readable and so innocent in his way. When he was mad, you could see it in the set of his jaw, when he was hurt, his eyes would scream it out, when he was turned on, his wolfish grin was fixed on his face. Everything he thought and felt flittered across his face so openly that Arthur was instantly drawn and more than a little jealous. Arthur didn't find that vulnerability nearly as often outside their home anymore. It was something only Arthur got to see. He supposed it had happened slowly over the years. As Daniel Renault went from Handsome Bob the criminal and the man who had had his brain picked apart by strangers, to Eames the capable and dangerous Forger extraordinaire, he had hardened his face and schooled his features. Arthur felt as if over the years he had stolen some of Eames' openness and Eames had adopted some of his solemnity. They balanced each other out. Eames' emotions were a vulnerability so he become much more private. Arthur who had been private to the point of unapproachable slowly opened up to Eames and became vulnerable. It worked well for both of them and they were a perfect team because of their balance.

Until Inception. That had been the first time Arthur had noticed the bitterness that had taken over. Though Eames was still joking, teasing and smiling, it was darker than before. The jokes took on a morbidity that hadn't been as prevalent and a coldness that shook Arthur to the core. He had thought he had lost Eames.

Arthur knew that the hardness came from him leaving Eames to help Dom after Mal had died. Eames had wanted to come with. Arthur had told him to wait. He didn't want Eames in danger with the authorities and those who might want to go after Dom for Mal's "murder".

Months later, after all of that had died away Eames had asked to join Arthur and Dom again. At that time Mal the ghost of Dom's subconscious had made her presence known in Dom's subconscious. She was malicious and dangerous. Eames had joined Dom and Arthur for one job and Mal had torn into Eames like a pit-bull into a kitten. Dom's subconscious loathed that he had lost his one true love and Arthur had managed to keep his. Arthur wasn't sure if Dom knew that Mal represented that bitterness towards him or if he was keeping a blind eye to it. Either way, Arthur couldn't bare to watch his beloved sister in law do and say such horrible things to the man he loved and know that it represented his brother's buried resentment towards him. Arthur left Eames after that. They still wrote and occasionally met but Arthur refused to have Eames work with him and Dom. After a year they even stopped meeting because every time they did just ended in angry rows and vicious words. Eames wanted to go with Arthur; Arthur couldn't have Eames near Dom and his projection of Mal and Arthur couldn't leave Dom. Eames still called and nearly begged to be allowed to help and after they started fighting on the phone, Arthur stopped taking his calls. Months of silence followed.

He knew now he had dropped into defensive mode. Self preservation kicked in in reaction to the shock at the loss, fear and overwhelming pain of losing Mal and at the violent ghost of her in his brother's mind. Though he had said he had wanted to protect Eames, he had shut Eames out to protect himself as well. Mal had been so important to him, like the loving mother he had never had. To loose her had been devastating and instead of pulling closer to the people he still had, he had pushed them away to keep himself safe from what he saw as their impending deaths as well. He hadn't been in the best of places back then and only after hours of conversation with Eames was he able to pinpoint exactly what he had been thinking and why he'd reacted the way he did.

Arthur had finally given in by the time Inception had come along. He knew he needed Eames to get the job done, and he knew that he just needed Eames. He missed their cuddling in the morning; he missed their pets playing with their feet while they were under the covers together and so many other precious moments that it was too much to know Eames was in the world but not in his world. So he had caved and allowed Dom to pull the beautiful Brit back to his life. Arthur wasn't sure what to expect from Eames but when Eames had shown up, all cool and professional Arthur had known that he had pushed him away too hard. The flirtation was still there and so was the occasional soft glance but it was so cold most of the time, almost taunting. Eames had recently told him it had been because he had been pining and hurt.

Arthur had almost given up a few times but before and during Inception Eames had playfully teased him, called him Darling and had worried about the security going after him. Arthur knew as Eames fell asleep on the second level of the dream after their brief exchange of words, that he was going to make things right with Eames. He'd chase Eames down hard as soon as the job was done and Eames was certainly going to lead him on a merry chase.

After everyone had left the LAX airport, Arthur directed his cab driver to follow the one Eames had gotten into. He got out where Eames did and followed him up to the front desk of a hotel. Eames was ordering a room with a single and Arthur had cut in, demanding a king on the executive floor. Eames had looked at him with mild surprise and murmured that Arthur was paying.

The elevator ride was silent. Arthur wanted so badly to say something but when he'd opened his mouth Eames had glared at him till he shut it.

Arthur had expected Eames to yell when they got to their hotel room or to kick his ass. He knew he deserved either of those two things. What he got was much better. The second the door was closed, Eames was all over him. Tongue in his mouth, hand down his pants, pressing urgently into him against the recently slammed door. Eames claimed Arthur in a way that they had never done before. They had always been possessive of each other, but never claiming. Arthur found himself rather liking the new Eames he found himself in bed with that night, lots of biting, wrestling and marking. Usually when the two of them got together, there was a lot of grappling and jockeying for position, this time Eames remained dominant. Arthur had known he'd have hickie bruises for weeks. They had talked, though it was through kissing lips and fevered rutting. Mostly the night consisted of Arthur apologizing and Eames demanding he never leave him again between gasps and moans.

The next morning they actually sat down together and talked, after a bout of lazy morning blowjobs of course. Eames had understood Arthur's need to be with Dom. Dom had been the only person for the entirety of Arthur's life that had loved and protected him. Arthur was loyal and Dom had earned that loyalty. But Eames was hellova pissed that Arthur had cut him out because he loved and protected Arthur too. He had earned that loyalty as well.

After some patient coxing from Eames, Arthur explained to him what Mal's death had done to him. Then what seeing Mal killing and torturing Eames had done to him and how that was why he'd left. How he couldn't handle ever seeing that again. The bitterness and anger at Mal for killing herself, the guilt over knowing Dom resented him for having Eames. His fear of losing another person he was close to coming to fruition when he had watched Eames die at the hands of Mal, even if it had only been a dream. All of that had caused Arthur to shut Eames out and to allow Dom to push him away emotionally if not physically. They never did come to a real conclusion with that conversation because Arthur had broken down.

After months of worry, regret and loneliness he had finally broken apart. Eames didn't hesitate as he came over and held him while he cried. He held Arthur against his chest and murmured into the back of his neck and Arthur held on with a vice like grip. They made sappy, romantic love next, the kind where it's slow and heated but you cry afterwards and just hold each other for hours. Then they had rough man sex to make themselves feel strong and in control again. Lots of wrestling and grappling, writhing bodies and biting teeth accompanied by bruises and growls.

Eames never did talk about what he had done for those months of silence between them but Arthur didn't feel brave enough to ask him yet. Their relationship was back on track, stronger than ever but sometimes Arthur was afraid that the damage he had done when he had pushed Eames away would have serious consequences for them. They needed to slow down the jobs and Arthur was determined that they would right after this job. Maybe buy a house, or a farm. Set up a home for themselves and their pets. Until then Arthur had lots of questions about his mark, his employer and the victim that needed to have answers in order for him to get over his pre-job gitters.

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Note: "He'd chase Eames down hard as soon as the job was done and Eames was certainly going to lead him on a merry chase." Lame I know but i couldn't resist it!


	6. Chapter 6 And They're Off

Disclaimer: I don't own Inception nor any of it's characters.

Warnings: Graphic and Non-graphic scenes of torture. Non-graphic sex later in the story. Slash, Eames/Arthur

Rating: T

Reviews: Thanks so much to Eshlyn Kar and Gabbyluv23

**Note:** Same deal as before, I'll update two weeks from today but with every review i'll update a day sooner. If you login and review I'll send you a sneak peak into the sequel/prequel for this story which I'll post a couple months after this story is up. Thanks for reading and reviewing :D

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Chapter Six

Vancouver

Eames woke up in the middle of the night with hands restraining him. He fought against them wildly. He looked over to Arthur's side of the bed to see the point man missing and he called out for him. Arthur answered from on top of him, surprising him into stillness.

"Arthur, why are you on top of me?" Eames asked out of breath.

"You were having a nightmare, tried to take my head off," Arthur responded still holding Eames down. His voice had a minuscule frightened quake in it and Eames didn't blame him. Eames hadn't had a dream in four years.

"Well I'm awake now, you can get off; or not but you'd better be willing to make it worth my while," Eames teased because he was just as scared as he knew Arthur was. Arthur rolled off of him and laid back down facing him. The two of them calmed their breathing and remained silent for a space. After a few minutes of silence Arthur reached over and pushed the hair from Eames' forehead and spoke in a low tone, "Do you remember anything?"

"No, nothing. Did I hurt you?" Eames replied in a breathy voice. He grabbed Arthur's hand and held it to his cheek.

"No, I'm fine."

"Did I say anything in my sleep?" Eames asked after a moment of silence. He shifted himself closer to Arthur and pressed his forehead to his.

"No."

They stared at each other and hoped that this wasn't something that was going to become a habit for Eames again. When they had first start working together exclusively Arthur had taken to sleeping with his friend to ensure that he wouldn't take off in the middle of a nightmare and hurt himself or others. It had been a very tense time. Neither of them fell back asleep that night. They held each other close, forehead to forehead and talked about nothing until morning.

Eames had been working at the retirement home now for two weeks and Arthur was nowhere closer to finding out who Walcott was and why he had killed Rickard. It frustrated him to no end. Eames hadn't seen much of Walcott at the home because they had different shifts. He'd been trying to change his work hours to match Walcott's but it wasn't working out.

Eames had been studying videos and photos of the late Rickard for the past few days. Their client had sent the videos to them after Eames had decided that his forge would be the old man himself. The plan was for Eames to go in forged as Rickard and to confront Walcott as a "ghost". Try to get Walcott talking about his murder or for his subconscious to store the guilty deeds in a safe that Arthur would break into. Arthur wasn't happy about the plan at all but there wasn't anyone they knew for certain that was tied up with Walcott. If they could get Eames to become one of his former contacts, someone he would trust it would be much safer for Eames but Arthur hadn't found anyone. He had never come across such an airtight alias before.

"Maybe we should just quit this one," Arthur suggested on a walk with the dogs.

"Arthur we'll be fine. We have everything we need to know about the man to pull off the case. The stuff we don't know we'll find in the dream and then get paid handsomely. Even if the man has his own personal army in his head we've dealt with that before. We are ready for anything this guy can throw at us in the dreamscape. No chance of limbo so if we die it'll be okay," Eames tried to soothe Arthur.

"I'd feel a lot better if we could get someone we trust to watch us in real time while we're in the dream. Maybe I could give Dom a call or we could call Puck," Arthur suggested.

"You could give Puck a call, see where he's at if you insist. I don't really want to call Dom away from his kids," Eames leaned over and planted a kiss on Arthur's temple as they walked side by side, "We can do this love, no hassle."

Puck was the forger that had mentored Eames. Everything he knew about forging came from Puck. He was a former military man, one of the original pasiv device test subjects and one of the first forgers in the world. He had taught Eames the three rule of forging:

Don't die as the forge, don't trust the forge and don't lose yourself in the forge.

Puck was a muscular and lithe 6'2'' man with curly brown hair and a mischievous smile. He was every bit the trickster he was named after. Eames and Puck got along swimmingly but Arthur fairly detested the man. The first time they had met Puck had kissed him on the mouth and told him he needed to live a little. He was just like Eames but not nearly as adorable, which made him insufferable. His mischievous nature had a streak of maliciousness that Eames' didn't. Eames would have kissed Arthur and told him to live a little because he was worried Arthur was too stressed for his own good. Puck on the other hand had done it because he wanted to stress Arthur out more. He was completely self-serving, arrogant and dangerous. So how he had gained the undying trust and loyalty of Arthur and Eames was still a mystery to both of them. The fact that it was well deserved was another mystery.

Eames pulled the needle from his arm and fiddled with the poker chip in his pocket as he walked out to the garden. He opened the sliding door and greeted his dogs with good cheer. Llydd came out first, pawing at his pants and grinning his puppy grin when Eames pet his ears. Twyrch dropped a dead bird at his feet and Eames tried not to gag. He smiled at the dog but he had a feeling it looked more like a grimace. As Eames picked it up by a bloody wing and dropped it into a compost pile in a bin by the door Twyrch sat wagging his tail, obviously proud of himself. Eames chuckled and pulled out his cigarette case from his pocket. He shook it lightly before flipping it open. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a slight hurry. He basked in the moonlight as he took his first drag.

The smooth burning feeling as the smoke filled his lungs seeped into his muscles, relaxed him considerably. He hadn't been able to sleep again tonight so he'd gone into the pasiv to practice his forge. It was already perfect so the dream had been dull and redundant. Eames was left feeling bored and restless. A cigarette always helped after a trip down. Nothing grounded him like the sharp burn of the smoke blowing through his lips. He slid his cigarette case back into his front pocket.

He had gotten the case from his grandfather years ago. The front was etched with the likeness of the Island Gibraltor and the name of the Island was on the top right corner. He'd added the scratches inside the lid that said '"Dreaming men are haunted men," Stephen Vincent Benet.' It had been a gift to him from his paternal grandfather, who had gotten it in the 1950's to commiserate his wife, who he had met in Gibraltor. Eames recalled with fondness the times he had seen his grandfather using it when he was child. He would sit and listen to all of his grandfather's war tales while he flipped open the case and smoked the cigarettes inside. His first cigarette he had snuck out of the case when he was 12.

He continued to flick the poker chip through the fingers of his right hand while the left was busy smoking. His dogs played around him and the moon shined down. Eames felt the only thing that could make this night more beautiful was to have Arthur sharing it with him. He decided let him sleep and prepared himself for the next day.

Eames had heard through the grapevine at the home that Walcott was going on a weekend vacation to Vancouver to watch a hockey game the following week. Arthur did the research and got the date of the flights and the hotel room that Walcott was staying in. Eames and Arthur decided it would be the perfect time for them to spring the trap. They called Dom because the hotel that Walcott was staying in was only three hours from where he was living. Arthur had texted Puck before they had talked to Dom to see where he was at but hadn't gotten a reply.

They decided on getting a hotel room adjacent to Walcott; break in through their conjoined door while he was sleeping, do the job and leave the country with Dom in his jeep. Dom was happy to help and the job was all lined up. Eames spent the last week perfecting his forge and continuing at the home to try and get some kind of lead on Walcott. Arthur kept up with his research but nothing new came in.

Everything was set up and ready to go by Friday. They were hopping on a flight that morning to the Canadian city and got ready for Walcott's arrival that evening. The flight was uneventful and they met Dom at the airport. He drove them to their hotel and the three of them got set up for the job that night. Eames was on lockdown because Walcott knew who he was from the retirement home but Dom and Arthur were periodically wandering the hotel to keep an eye open for their mark and for anything out of the ordinary.

At 6 in the evening, Walcott's plane arrived on schedule and Arthur tracked him to the hotel. Walcott got his reserved room next to theirs and everything was going to plan. Arthur loved when a plan panned out just the way it was suppose to. Though this job was shaky at best. Arthur didn't feel like they knew enough about the man to do this job with any sort of confidence. Though Eames had playfully reminded him that they had done more dangerous jobs with less information to go on. He was right but there were so many variables when it came to mob or gangster connections like they suspected Walcott to have. Arthur knew, he had witnessed it first hand growing up with the intrigue and danger occurring in his living room. Arthur had spent most of the week coming up with every single contingency plan to ensure they'd get out if shit hit the fan. If he couldn't have a solid plan about what they were getting into, he'd sure as hell have a million solid plans to get them out safe, quiet and quick.

Dom had gone back to legal dream work after returning to his kids. He had started a company in dream security. He really was Mr. Charles now. He taught the minds of the rich and influential how to keep the best extractors out, because he was the best after all. He made sure that in each of the securities teams he set up in people's heads there was a loophole that only Arthur and Eames knew how to get through. They were the only extraction team that knew how to get around Dom's clients and the clients were none the wiser. It would appear Dom's security worked and he kept his reputation as the best security man in the business and Arthur and Eames got to go in, steal the info and make a killing with the not so legal side of things. Dom of course got a cut of their shares. It was a lucrative joint enterprise that was working well for the three of them. Dom got a 9-5 normal job where he could be home to his kids each day and Eames and Arthur were certain that the subconscious security would not destroy them or send them to limbo. Walcott's subconscious had not been taught by Dom and it wasn't going to be as smooth sailings as some of their other more recent extractions had been.

Dom kept surveillance on Walcott while Eames and Arthur slept till their appointed break and enter time. At 2 in the morning the time arrived. Dom woke up Arthur and Eames. Walcott was in his room and judging from the obnoxious snoring they could hear through their paper-thin walls, fast asleep. Eames picked the lock on their joint door between the two hotel rooms and all three of them were silently in the room, setting up and ready to go under in just a couple of minutes. They gave Walcott a mild sedative to keep him under and stable but not one that would send them to limbo if they died. Eames and Arthur hooked themselves into the device and after a nod from Dom, he pressed the plunger and they were off.


	7. Chapter 7 The Extraction

Disclaimer: I don't own Inception nor any of it's characters.

Warnings: Graphic and Non-graphic scenes of torture. Non-graphic sex. Slash, Eames/Arthur

Rating: T

Reviews: Thanks so much to Eshlyn Kar, my Beta and loyal reviewer.

Thanks to Kiraling for reviewing and sticking with this since the beginning.

**Note:** Same deal as before, I'll update two weeks from today but with every review i'll update a day sooner. Thanks for reading and reviewing :D

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Chapter Seven

The Extraction

Eames came awake in a bathroom. He quickly forged Rickard and shuffled his way into the nursing home cafeteria that was just outside the door. The dream was Arthur's design so the retirement home was classy and clean. It had many high windows and made like a large log cabin. Elegant and homey, it was a perfect match of wilderness cabin and Victorian mansion. It was made to make people feel at ease, a good place to come to die. He looked around the room for Walcott but didn't see him. He did see Arthur though. He sat at the table Arthur was at and looked at him pointedly.

"You seen him yet?" his wispy, slightly phlegmy voice asked.

"Not yet. I've got to get looking for that safe. You remember how to navigate the maze outside?" Arthur asked. Eames nodded and Arthur stood about to leave. He was all business till he graced Eames with a half smile and sauntered off. They had fourteen hours in the dream before the timer ran out. Eames waited in the caf for the first half hour sipping on some tomato soup a nurse had brought him but Walcott didn't show up. He stood carefully, his old body groaning at him. He was going to walk out of the room but a young nurse stopped him.

"Rickard, you forgot your meds again. You keep doing this and I'm going to think your doing it on purpose. Now sit back down and I'll bring them to you," the young blonde returned moments later with three pills and a glass of water.

"Hunny, it's only because I get to see you smile that I make you chase after me every day," Eames smiled at her and swallowed the pills. Rickard was an awful flirt; he fit in his skin well. He stood and made as if to walk away when he suddenly felt lightheaded. He pressed his hand to his temple and tried to allow the dizziness to pass but it steadily got worse.

"Are you okay Rickard?" the nurse asked and he nodded the affirmative but didn't move.

"I'll help him to his room," a gravely voice said and hands were laid on his arm, helping him keep him balance and guiding him towards the rooms. After about a couple dozen steps the hands that had been guiding him were now completely supporting him, almost dragging him along. He shut his eyes against the painful gleam of the lights. Eames wasn't sure if this was normal to dying cancer patients or if something was wrong in the dream. He felt clammy, dizzy, hot and cold all at the same time. He was in a room when he next opened his eyes but it wasn't what he expected. It was a bedroom with two beds and one washroom. The man guiding him helped him lie down on one of the beds and only when his eyes were sliding shut against his will did Eames see who it was: Walcott.

Arthur wondered the outside perimeter of the nursing home. It was his third circuit and was nowhere near finding the safe that was Walcott's subconscious secret box. They had designed the outside of the home to be an elaborate hedge maze. A not so subtle maze granted but it did the job. Eames had teasingly alluded to the creepy similarities between the hotel and hedge maze in the Shining and the dreamscape they were now in.

"A bit ominous ain't it Darling? Not expecting ghosts now are we?" Eames had said.

Arthur would never let Eames know that that had been his muse for this dreamscape. Well that and the garden estate from The Secret Garden (his favorite book as a kid) but Eames was definitely never finding out about that particular source. He was beginning to regret it now. He walked around a shuffling pair of seniors who were meandering their way through the maze. It was his third time passing the pair.

He wouldn't find the safe till Eames got Walcott to start talking about it. Arthur thought about going back into the lodge to find him but held himself back. He needed to give Eames his space, let him work. The dream space was Eames' territory, he knew what he was doing down here and it wasn't wise to disrupt him. So Arthur kept circling the maze and waited for a safe to appear.

The reason why Arthur was able to be so open with Eames was because Eames was so open with him. Quid quo pro. He was able to bask in the warmth of Eames' body when his nightmares woke him with shakes and shivers because Eames' would clutch him like a teddy bear when his nightmares woke him. He was able to be relaxed and be calmed down from the brink of a panic attack because he was the only one who had seen Eames in a similar position. This agreement of theirs had started years ago, when they were still just best friends. A drunken agreement made in the midst of a need to trust someone, to be open with just one person. It was a rare thing to find someone who truly could know you. The two of them had found that in each other. They balanced each other out in a way that allowed them to know the other as a foil to themselves.

So when Eames had insisted that they be completely honest with each other before going under, "Because honestly ducky, something is wrong and your not telling me what it is," Arthur knew he had to talk to him.

"I hate this job. It isn't a good idea. We don't know anything about this man Eames except for the fact that he brutalized an old man in a way that we both know means he is hellova dangerous. He probably has connections that go deeper than my crime syndicate family for fucks sake and we are still doing this job. I want to walk away from this," Arthur said with resentment he didn't think he had been harboring.

"Bambi, come on now, we talked about this. We can handle this…" Eames tried to put his hands on Arthur's shoulders to pull him into his chest but Arthur shrugged off his hands.

"No Daniel. I'm serious. I don't think you can do this."

"Ah, so that's it, eh? You don't think I can do it?" Eames said taking a step back.

"No, Eames that's not what I meant…"

"That's exactly what you just said Arthur. Maybe you didn't mean to say it but Freudian and all that. You know I don't need you to coddle me. I'm not damaged goods anymore Arthur. I'm not Handsome Bob the fucking kid anymore. I'm not that man who needed to hide behind my friends. I don't need to hide behind you Arthur. I'm not the man who screamed himself awake every night and needed you to make it all better," Eames said angrily and leaned back against the wall, his posture defensive. Arthur sighed heavily.

"Every night Eames. Every night for the last two weeks you've been doing just that. And that's exactly my point, you haven't dreamt in four years and then this job pops up and the dreams start as well. It just doesn't sit right with me."

"I can do this Arthur. I've done worse before."

"What Eames? What has been worse than a serial killer psychopath that is so deep in the crime world that none of my contacts nor I can find out a damn thing about him? A man who has brutalized more than two-dozen people and hasn't left a shred of evidence behind? Because that sounds like the worst thing I've ever come across and we've done a lot of dumb shit together Eames," Arthur was pacing now.

"We weren't always together Arthur," Eames began and Arthur stopped breathing, stopped moving, stopped thinking for several seconds as his mind caught up with what he had just heard. He knew that if he didn't say anything in the next two minutes Eames would tell him about the time they had spent away from each other and Arthur wasn't sure if he wanted to know about that. Arthur wasn't sure he wanted to know what happened to Eames during those months of silence when he was away with Dom. He opened and closed his mouth silently while Eames avoided his gaze. Whether he wanted to know or not he didn't get a choice, his brain refused to come up with a decision and Eames had started talking.

"Do you know what I did those months you were gone with Dom?" Eames started quietly and Arthur shook his head no, eye wide and staring, "I spent most of my time in a job in the Black Beach prison in Equatorial Guinea. Do you know what that was like Arthur? Most of the minds I was in were war criminals and serial killers of a whole other level. Men who had killed hundred of people, in the most horrible circumstances, things you'd wouldn't even expect from fucking Nazis. If I can handle that, I can handle anything this fuckup hit man can throw at me," Eames paced in front of Arthur now. Arthur tried to keep his emotions bottled but he shuttered when he heard that. Black Beach prison was notorious for it's reputation of systematically neglecting and brutalizing its inmates. There was little to no food for them and the barest minimum of medical attention. Not to mention a few of the prisoners in there were war criminals from places like the civil wars of Sierra Leone, the Congo and Rwanda. Even foreign war criminals were shipped there from Bosnia, Cambodia, Chechnya, Iraq and many other countries. When countries wanted to sweep someone under the rug, wanted to them to suffer for what they had done, they sent them to Black Beach. Few extractors would take the job for that place because of the instability of the inmate's minds and because of the employers.

The prison had a bad habit turning its employee's into inmates. It was an extremely dangerous job and Arthur was furious that Eames would take it. Even Cobb hadn't been desperate enough to take that job.

Eames was so pig headed when it came to him trying to prove himself. He was constantly trying to outrun the man he had once been. He saw Handsome Bob as being his weak alter ego from years ago; a man drenched in self-doubt and fear. Eames was strong, Eames wouldn't break from torture the way Handsome Bob had. It frustrated Arthur to no end that his Daniel would forge Eames in the real world to hide from whom he feared he was, Handsome Bob. Arthur was never quite sure who he was with sometimes. When woken from a nightmare, Arthur was usually comforting Handsome. On a job it was Eames and at home it was Daniel. All three were at war with one another. It had always been this way, ever since Eames had learned how to forge but it hadn't been this bad. Since they had reunited Eames was showing up in places where it was Daniel's place. Arthur could always tell when one of his lover's forgeries were in place, even in the real world. Daniel was the man that loved Arthur, Eames was the professional thief and it was disturbing to come across Eames when Daniel was suppose to be there. Eames didn't belong in Arthur's kitchen, or in his house or in his bed. Those were Daniel's places. Arthur feared that leaving his lover to help Cobb had hurt him so badly that Arthur had lost Daniel to be replaced by the less feeling Eames.

"Daniel, why? Why would you go there?" Arthur finally managed to put to words his grief and disbelief about Eames' months away from him. Eames looked away from his heavy gaze and huffed out a sigh.

"Because I wanted to. I wanted to see what it was like to feel again. There is not much that surprises or scares me anymore Arthur and I wanted to find something that did. I wanted a challenge. When you left me Arthur, I went numb. I felt like Handsome Bob again. I started dreaming again and screaming in the middle of the night but never remembering what the hell it was that me so afraid. It was a way to get control again. I did it Arthur because I could do it because I needed to prove that I was strong enough. And I did it, I was strong enough. I did the job perfectly and stayed sane. Just like this job. I can do it, so let me," Eames said sitting down heavily on the couch.

"I love you. I love you so much but I need to know when are you going to stop running away from what happened to you all those years ago, that extraction from your youth? When are you going to finally prove to yourself that you're strong enough? Because I can't wake up and not have you there with me. I can't live in the fear that you won't wake up with me," Arthur said quietly walking over to Eames and pulling him into his embrace.

"When I stop waking up screaming in the middle of night. When I finally confront all of demons and put a bullet into their brains. That's when I'll stop running."


	8. Chapter 8 Horizontal Dreamscape

Disclaimer: I don't own Inception nor any of it's characters.

Warnings: This is where the graphic depictions of torture begin. Physical/psychological abuse. Slash, Eames/Arthur

Rating: M

Reviews: Thanks to SSA Amber Janee Reid.

**Note:** Same deal as before, I'll update two weeks from today but with every review i'll update a day sooner. Thanks for reading and reviewing :D

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Chapter Eight

Horizontal Dreamscape

Eames awoke with groggy gradualness. His head pounded and he groaned when he tried to open his eyes. The light overhead was much too bright so he shut his eyes against the morning light. He pulled his arm to place it on his eyes but his arms refused to co-operate. He hadn't had a hangover like this in ages.

"Arthur, am I dead yet? I feel like I got hit by a bus," he mumbled to his sleeping partner and received no reply. He tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes and felt a tight strain on his wrist. Nausea cursed through him when he realized his arms weren't moving not because of weariness, but because they were restrained. His eyes flew open now, tiredness forgotten. He wiggled his fingers and pulled at the restraints trying to find a way free of the leather bindings. When he realized he couldn't slip the bindings Eames took stock of what his current situation was. He was flat on his back, tied to a cot. His legs were also restrained. The room was bright white and smelled like bleach. He was only in his under pants, no other clothes. There were other cots in the room, as well as an instrument table but Eames couldn't see what was on it.

"Morning sunshine," Eames was startled by the fake jovial tones of another man in the room. He twisted his neck to catch a glimpse of the man in the corner behind his cot. He was lounging casually in a chair with a book in his hands. His chair was leaning back on two legs, feet on a small table in front of him and the book was blocking Eames' view of his face.

"What the fuck?" Eames growled. He didn't feel the need to expand, as the clear reason for his irritation was rather obvious. The man chuckled and flipped the page of the book.

"This is really quite the good read, though you wouldn't know anything about reading would you Bob?" Eames' heart did a little flip-flop of panic. He hadn't been called Bob in years. Even One-Two and Mumbles, his two best friends who had known him for years as the pseudonym Handsome Bob, called him Eames or Daniel. Besides the name, not many people knew about his difficulty with reading. How did this man know two of his best-kept secrets?

Eames didn't say anything just waited for the man to lower the book or keep talking. He tried to think back about how he had gotten here. After minutes of silence Eames ignored the man in the corner. He closed his eyes to concentrate but his thoughts were groggy and slow in coming. As soon as his first recollection of the job came to him, the rest of the memory flashed on his retinas in super speed starting with going into the dream, taking the pills from the nurse and ending with the image of Walcott's face in front of his as he had lost consciousness. His eyes burst open in surprise and he literally choked back a gasp to see Walcott in front of him, inches from his nose.

"Boo," he said with cackle and stood back, watching Eames. Eames' wide terrified eyes followed Walcott's every move. He now recognized the man in front of him. He knew this man and his name wasn't Walcott.

"Recognize me yet? Yeah, I can tell by your expression that you do. It's been quite some time since we've seen one another hasn't it. Oh I'd say about nine years. How time flies eh? I knew you wouldn't forget me. I certainly haven't forgotten you Handsome Bob," the man made his deliberated monologue as Eames remained tongue-tied, his eyes unable to leave other man's movements. He stopped pacing suddenly and stood behind Eames' head. Eames couldn't see him and slid his eyes shut tight. Walcott knelt close to his head and whispered, his hot breathe on his ear, "You were my first you know. I'd also have to say you were my favorite. The sounds you'd make, oooo," Walcott moaned and nuzzled his nose along Eames' cheekbone and then back to his ear. When Eames tried to flinch his head away, Walcott slid his hand into his hair and kept him still, saying softly, "I've spent years trying to duplicate those screams and the blood but no-one could quite bleed like you. I tried the dream world for a while but it just wasn't as fun as reality. I was quite disappointed when I didn't get you in reality. You were rescued before that delight. No I haven't forgotten you, you don't typically forget someone when you've been elbow deep inside them..."

"Are you quite done with the silly double entendre's Orion because your speech is a little long winded and a tad over dramatic," Eames opened his eyes and he fell comfortably into his mask of being indifferent and cheeky. Walcott –Orion, Eames now remembered his real name- snapped his mouth shut audibly and his eyes seemed to burn into the back of Eames' head. He stood slowly and glared down at him. Eames steeled himself and met the fiery glare with an icy one. He was not Handsome Bob anymore; he was Eames, the deadly dangerous forger/thief extraordinaire. He was not one to be intimidated or cowed; he was the one to smile and laugh in the face of those who hurt and threatened him. So he slipped into the familiar façade of Eames and let Bob and Daniel fall deep into the back of his mind, into the place that no forgery every got close to.

Orion glared daggers at him for interrupting his speech and huffed frustrated air through his nostrils. Eames thought he looked a little like an angry cartoon character, a bull or something and was surprised smoke didn't come out of his ears. He told Orion as much and got a fist in the jaw for his observation.

Orion was one of the team from the extraction on Handsome Bob all those years ago. Even though he had aged in the time since Eames had last seen him, he was unmistakably the same man. The same predatory hazel eyes. The close-cropped sandy blonde hair. He was broader now; he had lost all of his young thinness and had thickened into a strong athletic man. He had been much smaller back when Eames was his prisoner. Eames knew he was dreaming because he was able to remember exactly who this man was and what he had done to him. All those years ago this man had been the one to slice, cut, bruise and break him with the most amount of cruelty and glee. The other extractors had beaten and cut and tortured but this man had broken him. The man had been in his late twenties back then. He had an American accent, from the Boston region. He had grown out of the accent and the boyish looks but the cruelty in his face was still there, the glee at the prospect of inflicting pain.

"I'm a lot better now than I was back then," Orion began again as if Eames hadn't interrupted. "I still torture, that is much too much fun to give up, but now I don't need you to say a word to get what I'm looking for, you just have to think it and it'll go right on that little pad of paper over there. Now that I've sown that into your subconscious there is no way you cannot think about it. It'll work just like your silly safe idea but under torture you can't blank out the lines you don't want me to see, it'll just seep out. There is no way for you to hide your secrets."

"Why can I remember you? I spend half my life in dreams and I've never been able to remember any of you or what you did to me before. Why can I now? Are we deeper than three levels?"

"It's the drugs you see. You need them to get into this part of your subconscious. It isn't deeper than the levels; it's more of a linear progression. You and your crew were always going down, me and mine explored the horizontal regions, sideways."

"What do you want?"

"Ah, we'll get to that in due time. For now we'll just get reacquainted for a while. I really do miss your screams Bob. I will hear those screams again. I will see those tears and I will hear you beg. You will lose everything that you have spent the last nine years building up and I'm going to be there to see you fall. When I've broken you down, we'll get to the questions. Till then just enjoy the ride."

The next hours were hell. Bob had been tortured since that first extraction, even in the real world but this was worse than anything he had been through. Orion knew what he was doing. Eames had fingernails torn off, bones broken, skin burned and flayed. The worst was the psychological torture. Orion would be torturing and laughing at him one moment and then soothing his hair back from his face and cooing reassurances the next. His touches disturbingly reminiscent of Arthur but not in a comforting way. It was like taking a favorite childhood toy and cutting out its eyes and replacing them with creepy button eyes. You knew what it was supposed to look like but it wasn't quite right, it was distorted and wrong. (Eames knew he'd have to thank Arthur for making him watch that creepy Coraline movie for that visualization.)

Orion would place his forehead to Eames', quiet and fake comforting while he burned a cigar into the empty place where Eames' fingernail had been. He would brush his fingertips over his chest just before digging them into a wide cut that he had made on his stomach. He would kiss down his neck then bite deep and painful into Eames' skin. The intimate touches were just as much a torture as the burning, breaking and cutting. Eames' refused to take solace in the touches, knowing that was why there were given. They were there to screw with his head, make him feel comfortable with this man. To make him feel for his torturer, the person who caused him so much pain and relief. It was a power play as well as a psychological one. It was a sped up process of the psychology of a beaten lover. The person being abused was so grateful for the times that were good that they excused the times that were bad. It was a sick psychological game and it had worked on Handsome Bob. This man's goal was Stockholm syndrome. Bob had fallen for it. Eames' remembers waking from his nightmares feeling heartbroken as well as scared and not knowing why he felt like he was missing someone.

Through it all Eames refused to scream, beg or be baited in anyway. He was not Bob and he refused to succumb to this nightmare again. He laughed when he wanted to scream, he cursed, vision red tinged with rage when he wanted to cry. He would smart mouth and sass when he just wanted to beg for it all to stop, please god make it stop.

He forged, refusing to allow Orion to touch his body. When the pain got too much and Eames was forced to drop the forge that was Orion would touch him, caress him. He held his hair in one hand and a knife or cigar in the other. The grasp in his hair switching from caressing to restraining when he would pull the blade slowly across his skin or burn the cigar deep into an open wound. He would place his lips an inch from Eames' own, nose-to-nose, and forehead-to-forehead. He breathed in Eames' gasp of pain when he stabbed a three-inch knife into his ribs and twisted. He would kiss his knee and soothe circles into Eames' hip as he cut off his toes with a cigar cutter. He would rub the tension from his calf while burning the stubs where his toes once were with chemical acid.

In the midst of the torture Eames was faintly aware that he still had a job to do.

"Why did you kill Rickard?" Eames asked, needing a distraction from his agonizing wounds. He was currently in the body of a fourteen-year-old boy and his voice cracked. Walcott looked up from his inspection of the flesh he had just filayed from his stomach.

"I needed a way to get into your head. I knew that Rickard Jr. had a connection to Arthur's family and I wanted you two to come into my head. I can only do this if I am the subject. Your projections would freak out and take me down but mine are trained to do my bidding."

"How could you possibly know for certain that we'd be hired?"

"I didn't, I've killed three other people with vague connections to Arthur and you. You weren't hired till this one."

Eames recoiled at the thought that his secrets, whatever Orion needed from him were worth four innocent lives. He was distracted from his thought train when Orion continued with his ministrations.

Seven missing fingernails, four broken fingers, three missing toes, three stab wounds, eight long gashes, three two by two inch patches of raw flesh where the skin had been removed, two broken kneecaps, five bites, uncounted burns and small cuts later, Eames wasn't able to hold a forge anymore. His body was in too much pain for his mind to be able to hold the concentration to keep a forge.

He didn't talk or sass anymore, he was too tired. His muscles quivered with exhaustion and tears leaked from the side of his eyes and he wasn't able to stop them. He never did scream or beg though. He gasped, grunted, laughed, yelled and swore but never screamed. Orion was patient but Eames could tell he wasn't pleased that he had Eames on his torture table and not Handsome Bob.

Sandy blonde hair and a firm jaw filled his vision. The soft look in Orion's eyes made Eames feel like he was going to throw up. He grasped Eames' chin and forced him to tilt his head back. He wiped the tears from Eames' face with his thumbs, a knife still clutched in his fingers.

"It's alright Bob, let it out. I'm here," he said softly before bending his head to Eames' exposed throat. He ghosted his lips up and down his neck, over the bleeding bite at the crook of his shoulder and neck, kissing it almost in apology. Eames tried to pull away like usual, but the grip tightened and Eames felt the bones of his jaw creak with the force.

"I need something from you Bob, and then I can make all of this go away. It will be hard for you to give it up but I'll make it worth your while. You tell me and I'll send you back to Arthur and never bother you again. You'll forget all of this, just like before," Orion pulled his head up and met his gaze, still grasping his face and stroking his hair.

"What do you need?" Eames' hoarse voice asked before his mind could catch it and bring it back. He forced himself not to nuzzle into the strong fingers that soothed his hair. Every touch that wasn't pain was a comfort that Eames could barely allow himself not to feel.

"I need the Stilman code," Orion said against the skin of his cheek. Eames' felt his entire body tense and panic gripped him by the throat. He tried to pull his face away from the lips at his cheekbone but the hand was still tightened on his jaw and refused to let go.

"No, never," Eames' growled. He felt Orion tense as well and suddenly the hand holding the knife was no longer stroking his hair or wiping the tears gently from his face. It was crushing his windpipe, the other hand still gripping his chin. His head was forced at an uncomfortable angle backwards and to the side, facing Orion.

"You'll tell or I'll go find Arthur. We'll see how long you last as I strip the flesh from his bones. Or better yet, I'll leave you tied to this table while I wake him and I up and do all of these lovely things to him in reality. How long would you last if you could hear him screaming and dying while you were stuck here helpless to save him? His screams would last so much longer down here, drawn out by the time lapse. Could you sit here for days and hear me kill him?" Orion yelled in his face and slammed his head back against the table. Eames' shut his eyes tight and felt his face drain of blood. He pressed his eyes closed firmly against the anger of the man in front of him. In all the time Eames' had spent on the table, Orion had not once yelled at him and his anger was terrifying, it was tinged with insanity. He wouldn't give the Stilman code to save his own life but what wouldn't he do to save Arthur? He panicked. He couldn't give Orion the Stilman code; to give it to him would mean the death of hundreds of innocent people, maybe even thousands. The knife still grasped in Orion's grip nicked Eames' neck just below the square of his jaw when Orion shook him yelling, "Tell me what I want to know."

Eames felt the blood from this tiny cut slide down the side of his neck. Orion still yelled at him but Eames' had found a way out of this and tuned him out while he planned as quick as he could. He took a deep breath and met Orion's gaze again.

"I'll tell you but you have to promise to let Arthur alone," Eames said painfully. Orion blinked stupidly, he obviously had expected to have to torture the code out of him. He expected to torture Eames till his subconscious scrawled the fourteen number's and letters onto the pad of paper.

Just as Eames had planned the grasp on his chin loosened slightly and in that split second Eames forced his chin down hard, forcing the knife into his neck, below his jaw and into his artery. He choked on his own blood as Orion screamed at him in rage. His eyes slid shut as his fast beating heart pumped his blood out through the gaping hole in his neck. He smiled as he died.

He awoke in the nursing home, not strapped to the bed. He saw Orion sitting asleep on the chair beside his bed still plugged into the pasiv. He pulled the needle from his arm and got painfully to his feet. He was still forged as Rickard and dropped the forge as he tried to rush from the room. He made his way to the locked door as quick as he could. There was nothing in the room that Eames' could kill himself with. Before he could get the locked door open he was suddenly wrenched back by his shoulder. He was flung onto the ground. He landed with a sickening crunch and felt his hip pop.

"You're still in a dream you idiot and now we're in the level that dearest Arthur is in. Your going to tell me about that code, whether you want to or not! Your going to think it and it's going to go down onto that pad of paper and there is nothing you can do about it," Orion screamed at him and climbed on top of his body, straddling him. Eames' fought against the man on top of him but the drugs in his body weakened him and he wasn't able to do much. His lungs burned from the effort of escape. He couldn't let Orion have the code; it was worth more than his life. It was worth more than Arthur's life. How could he possible keep it from his head? How could he keep a secret from his subconscious leaking out?

He could forget the subconscious entirely. Within moments of this thought, Eames stopped fighting Orion and started loosening the mental tethers to himself in his brain. He closed his eyes with the effort and ignored the torture the man above him was giving his body. He cut loose himself and embraced his forge. He became Mark Rickard. He forgot the code, by forgetting himself. By the time he was done he was Mark Rickard. He didn't just burry Daniel Handsome Bob Eames, he let him go, cut him loose. He wasn't there anymore.

When he opened his eyes and saw the shark tooth snarl above him, it was with Mark Rickard's eyes.

"Who are you? Wh… What's going on? Please stop hurting me," the man asked with fear and trembling. Orion stopped and stared down at him blankly. He didn't accuse the old man of lying. He understood immediately what had happened. He got off the old man quickly. He went to his notepad and read briefly.

"No! Damnit," he roared and kicked the old man in the ribs. He grabbed the chemical acid and sprayed it into the old man's face as he tried to get away. He beat the man with all of his rage before climbing onto his chest and suffocating him with his hand. He knew he had lost Eames and he took all of his rage and frustration out on the forge in front of him.

When the man was dead he turned from the broken body and began his search for Arthur.


	9. Chapter 9 Garden Maze

Disclaimer: I don't own Inception nor any of it's characters.

Warnings: This is where the graphic depictions of torture begin. Physical/psychological abuse. Slash, Eames/Arthur

Rating: M

Reviews: Thanks to Missy92 and EshlynKar.

**Note:** This is the final Chapter for this story. Lookout for the Sequel/Prequel called the Stillman Code. Thanks for reading and reviewing :D

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Chapter Nine

Garden Maze

The night before the job, Arthur lay in bed with Eames at his side. Twyrch and Llydd were curled on their feet and Dolos was snuggled under the covers in the crook of Eames' right arm. His left arm was wrapped securely around Arthur's waist. They had finished their fight about the job and gone to bed shortly after. Eames had fallen asleep quickly. Arthur was still too worried to sleep yet. He didn't want to second-guess his partner; Eames was the one man in the entire world that he trusted with everything. He knew Eames was capable, smart and resourceful. He knew that Eames could do some stupid things but he was always able to fix it. Arthur hadn't double guessed Eames on a job in years. It was the nightmares that had Arthur so worked up.

Almost two years after they had met Arthur and Eames had partnered up on a job in South Korea. The two of them weren't together romantically at that point and the sexual tension had been palpable. Though they hadn't consciously aknowledged it. They just thought they were good friends. Both of them far too wrapped up in the fear of a relationship to acknowledge each other in that way. Third night into the job, Eames woke Arthur up with his nightmares and Arthur had stayed with him that night to calm him down. It had been one of the most terrifying things to witness. The trauma leaking through those nightmares had been so real that Arthur had felt it all vicariously. It was ultimately those nightmares and the trust the two of them developed because of the need for Arthur to calm Eames and Eames to allow Arthur to calm him that had led to their relationship. Both of them had been too hung up on their self-doubt and self-destructive ways to be in a relationship before that time.

When the nightmares finally stopped both of them had been so relieved. They felt like they could finally move past the trauma in their pasts and move towards the future. To have them back felt like two steps back. It hurt Arthur to see the capable charming Eames so broken and scared with these nightmares again.

So he lay awake with his partner sleeping beside him and he concentrated on his breathing. He was working preventative measures tonight. He planned on keeping Eames from falling into the nightmares that plagued him. So when Eames' breathing started to speed up and hitch Arthur rolled over onto him and started soothing his hair.

"It's alright Dan, I've got you," he murmured to his sleeping lover and continued to stroke his hair and chest until Eames settled back into dreamlessness.

Arthur had tried to entire Eames' nightmare once with the pasiv. Eames' dream had been so explosive that Arthur had been pulled so deep into the dream that he had feared he'd gone to limbo. He hadn't tried it again.

Arthur was quickly becoming restless. He had been going circles for hours in the garden maze. It was a big maze, but even so, repetition was making it small. Eames should have found Walcott by now. Arthur didn't want to barge in and disturb Eames if he was trying to manipulate Walcott into giving up the safe but he needed to see what the hold up was. He made up his mind and made his way out of the maze. Halfway between the garden and the home Arthur started to notice the projections watching him carefully. He was sure his cover was about to be blown so Arthur pressed a hand to his firearm and walked calmly towards the home. He got to the door before they started attacking him. He slammed the door into a man coming through with a knife from the other side. He ended up shooting three elderly people and two nurses before getting to the maze again. He wasn't sure where Eames would be in the home but had to get back inside the maze and hopefully find the safe now. If the projections had caught on to him, that meant he had to create a distraction and get them away from Eames and Walcott. He pulled out a very loud shotgun to draw the projections out with the sound. The only way for him to outmaneuver the projections was in the maze.

He ran into the couple that he had passed before, except this time they were reaching for him like maniacal flesh eating zombies. He shot them in the heads and jumped over their bodies. He knew, of course, that he would totally kick ass in a zombie apocalypse. So he pretended as he shot the projections that came his way and jumped over their bodies that that was what he was doing. Headshots only he reminded himself. He knew he must be getting bored of his work if he was resorting to upping the anti all the time to make it interesting. Last time he pretended he was James Bond and used a silencer or a knife the whole time. Another time he had decided on going tribal and only using a sword and his bow and arrows. It had fit the man's dream of course, as he was a historian who constantly played role-playing games with ancient weapons but it had still been fun. He needed another job like Inception, something interesting and challenging. Maybe Eames had had the right idea and he'd have to go to Black Beach prison for a while too. Arthur thought with a bitter sneer. Arthur mulled this all over while still searching for the safe and out maneuvering the "zombies" that were coming his way.

He was just rounding the corner after shooting a nurse in the face when he tripped over something in the middle of the path. It was the safe. Arthur smiled to himself; he knew Eames would pull through. He quickly looked around and saw no one near so he bent over the safe and began to pick the lock.

Three minutes later he was scouring the papers inside. What he read turned his blood to ice. The reason Walcott killed Rickard was to lure Eames. He didn't finish reading the papers; he was already running for the home before those thoughts had fully made their way into his brain. He fought manically to get into the home. He saw Walcott trying to get through the crowd to him but Arthur ended dying with a knife in his throat and Walcott screaming for the projections to stop.

He awoke looking for Eames. The chair beside him was vacant and Dom was asking him what had happened.

"Where's Eames?" Arthur cut Dom off. Dom pointed back to their hotel room

"He went into our hotel room, wouldn't tell me what happened. He looked like he died pretty gruesome Arthur. He was limping and breathing hard," Dom said with a worried look. Arthur pulled the needle from his arm and walked briskly for the other room.

"Give Walcott another dose of the drug, I don't want him awake yet and keep your gun on him," Arthur pointed to Walcott who was waking and Dom, though concerned and confused, followed his instructions.

Arthur opened the adjoining door and quickly took in the empty room. He heard the shower and saw the bathroom door was closed. He knocked quietly at first.

"Eames? Are you alright?" when Eames didn't answer Arthur knocked more insistently. "Come on babe, let me in," When he heard nothing but a moan from the other side Arthur kicked the door in. He stopped dead when he saw Eames. He was huddled in his sopping clothes in the shower. Hands pressed to his eyes and body shaking with hysteria.

"Eames?" Arthur all but whimpers the name. Eames does nothing but cower further into the tub. "Eames?" Arthur says the name with a little more strength this time. When all Eames replies with is a moan and a gasp, Arthur feels his heart break. He wanted nothing more than to pull the sobbing, shaking man into his embrace but he knew the man in the tub was not Eames at the moment. He was dealing with a forge. At least he hoped he was dealing with a forge, he didn't know what could turn his strong partner into the weeping man in the tub. Arthur moved closer, making sure to be slow. He made his footsteps clear so the Eames would hear him coming. The water continued to pour and Eames continued to cower from the approaching footsteps. When he got there he barely restrained his instincts to jump in and take Eames into his arms. He instead squatted next to the tub and put his hand out onto Eames' shoulder. He flinched hard when Eames pulled violently away from him, sobbing.

"Eames?" Arthur says, his voice hoarse and constricted. He swallowed painfully and said with more strength but still gentle, "you don't need to be afraid of me."

He put his hand out again and received only a slight flinch. He soothed his hand across Eames' back and began to talk to him in a low voice.

"Eames, it's gonna be okay. We're going to sort this out, all right? I'm going to take you home and we'll sit in front of the fire for hours just like normal. We'll be home soon okay. You need to calm down okay?" He babbled, he knew he was babbling but he couldn't help himself. He had seen Eames loose himself in a few forges before and it was a completely different reaction each time. They had discussed what exactly Arthur was suppose to do each time though to find Eames. He had to sit with him, keep saying his name and help him remember he was himself. So he talked about their home while he started to gently push Eames forward so he could sit with him.

"It's me, its Arthur," Arthur says with a slight hitch again, his throat closing with emotion. Eames shuddered visibly when Arthur said his name.

"Eames? Are you there?" Arthur asks him and when nothing happens again, Arthur tries the other name he thought the man in front of him would respond to.

"Rickard?" Eames seems to tense slightly at the name and Arthur continues to soothe Eames' back.

"Do you know which one you are?" Arthur asks gently saying both names, Rickard and Eames. Eames gets visibly more upset and starts to panic.

"No…. no, who am I?" Arthur hears Eames' voice for the first time and it horrifies him. He barely recognizes it. It's so full of pain and fear.

"Who am I?" he wails the next time and Arthur is horrified into stillness. When Eames panics himself into a coughing fit Arthur moves in behind him and tries to calm him down. He turns off the water, pushes himself in behind Eames back and clasps his legs on either side of the panicking man's torso, knees just in front of his armpits, feet next to his bottom. He pulls the panicking man into his chest and hands on his hands folded against his chest. Eames struggles for a few seconds but Arthur shushes him gently, his nose in his hair and mouth against his ear. Arthur's forehead moves to be against the back of his head and Arthur uses soft words to calm his partner down.

"Shh, it's okay, breathe. Like me okay," Arthur takes a deep noisy breath and exhales against the back of his neck. Arthur squeezes his hands in his own and tries to soothe him. He presses his lips at the back of Eames' neck lightly brushing against the skin there. "Eames?" he whispers against the back of his neck, his lips ghosting the skin there. He wills Eames to remember with his touch. He feels light shivers go up Eames' spine under his lips.

His lips press again, this time against the notch that is the highest point in his spinal cord. "Eames, calm down, breathe with me, please," Arthur begs softly against skin. Arthur, kisses the next notch on his spine and Eames melts into his chest. He stops trying to pull away and shakily tries to emulate the breathing. Silent tears are falling from Arthur's eyes as Eames begins to calm and re orientate himself. Arthur is fairly sure Eames has begun to find himself again by this point.

He says his own name twice and Arthur echoes the name into his skin. Arthur continues to hold him while Eames begins to remember what had happened in the dream. He presses his forehead to Eames' temple while he relives the last few minutes before he was killed in the dream. He shudders and whimpers with remembered pain. Arthur apologizes to him for not getting to him in time but Eames blames himself like usual.

"No, it's okay Arthur. I shouldn't have lost myself like that. Why did I loose myself so completely in that forgery?" Eames questioned mostly himself with the words. He thought back, trying to remember the beginning of the dream.

Epilogue

The Stilman Code

Arthur rubbed his hands up and down Eames' arms. His lips pressed into his skin, wherever he could reach. His jaw, the side of his nose, his eyelid, cheek, behind his ear, the back of his neck. He was just so relieved that Eames was here that he couldn't keep the relief and affection inside. Eames nuzzled back every once in awhile but mostly he seemed to just want to be still.

"He was after the Stilman code," Eames said so quietly that Arthur took a few seconds to comprehend what he had said. When the words finally hit him Arhur pulled back slightly in shock.

"That's impossible. How could he know about that? Only three people knew you had that code. You, me and the other is dead."

"I know who Walcott is. He was one of those men from my extraction. I remember all of it now," Eames revealed. Eames didn't want to think about what had happened but he needed Arthur to know. He just wanted to go to sleep. He relaxed back into Arthur allowing himself to let go. Arthur himself was shocked speechless. To be confronted with one of the men who had caused the man he loved so much pain for so many years wasn't something Arthur felt prepared for.

Eames prepared himself to start telling Arthur all about the dream but was interrupted by a hesitant knock from the door adjoining their rooms. Arthur shifted Eames and stood but not before kissing his temple and promising to be right back. He began to walk out of the washroom before Eames' voice stopped him dead in his tracks,

"Arthur, why are we still dreaming?"

Arthur whirled on him in shock. Eames held his cigarette case in his palms but it had no cigarettes in the case. Only a one small red pill placed in the centre of small silver case. Arthur did a double take before meeting Eames' fear filled eyes. Arthur hurridly reached into his own pocket and pulled out his die. He dropped it on the counter beside him and was shocked to see it roll a four. Four meaning death in asian culture, four meaning dream.


End file.
